


Love and War

by FlakyFriend



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Every chapter is written at 3 am in the library, F/M, Friendship, No editing- we die like men, Romance, Spoilers, Violence, and idk how tags work, i'm a thirsty hoe, overdosing on coffee, smut probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-08-23 21:00:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 30,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16626365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlakyFriend/pseuds/FlakyFriend
Summary: Elizabeth Miller was an enigma to Charles, a bright bubbly girl that was as likely to shoot you as help you on your feet. He’d seen her fight and kill more than her fair share, yet she never looked the part- her face was all soft edges and curves. Round cheeks that never quite lost their baby fat flushed so easily at passing compliments and full pink lips that she chewed on when thinking. She always had a doe eyed look to those sky blue eyes, even in the middle of shooting sprees and robberies, they sparkled.Charles groaned. Yeah, he was screwed.





	1. Hell is a Place on Earth

**Author's Note:**

> Read at your own risk, this is a result of a study break at 3 am during an all nighter and is keeping me sane during my projects and finals and my thirsty ass being starved of Charles content so if no one else is doing it fuck it- imma do it myself. Also the name might change? probably (definitely) i don't like it but i suck with names

_Cold, so fucking cold._

A young woman rode beside a long caravan of tired and freezing people, moving at a creeping pace through the snow.

The snow, ice and harsh winds made an already hard mountain trip damn near impossible. Even layers of shirts and borrowed jackets that felt more like the skirts she refused to wear, did nothing to stop the frost biting through. The girl hugged the thick neck of a large black horse, hoping for a reprieve from the bitter cold.

“Careful, someone will think you've frozen to death.” She looked to see Charles- a large man that looked more prepared to wrestle a bear than the snow- sitting on the edge of a wagon she rode behind.

“I will,” Her head rocked with the horse, “At least it’d be preferable to this frozen hell.”

“It is warmer on the carriage.”

“Uncle's on the wagon.”

“...Fair point.”

“Besides I have Ace to keep me warm,” She patted his neck, “Isn't that right?”

“I'll never know how you ride that beast,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

“He's not a beast! He’s still a baby.”

“He’s an overgrown baby.” He stated.

“He’s seven and he is quite normal for his breed, sir.”

She sat up noticing the caravan coming to a halt, an abandoned town just visible through the snow. _Thank God._  Even old shacks with rotten boards were godsend in this snowstorm. She saw Arthur make his way to the back of the caravan, still on Charles’ mare, Tiama.

“Miss ‘Lizabeth, there's an old barn down that a'way,” He pointed further into town, “You get the horses settled in there. I’ve gotta go back out to find John and Micah.”

“Arthur, wait! Take Ace,” She unmounted hastily seeing him ready to take off again.

“Oh no, you ain’t tricking me into getting on that demon again,” He protested.

“He’s gonna get through that snow a hell of a lot easier than she can.”

Arthur grumbled for a moment and took the reins, “When he kills me, I’m comin’ back to haunt you.”

“Oh, don’t be such a baby!” She yelled after him, laughing.

Elizabeth watched him ride off on the large Percheron before returning to the horses still hitched. Quickly gathering the horses to the old barn, she got everyone situated before the snow got too deep. The derelict barn had holes in the planks, some missing completely. Wind howled around the shelter, the lantern filtering dust in a somber light. Like even the mountain knew the hell They'd been through.

Wrapping the legs of tired horses and mending sores was tedious, but a welcoming peace. However, peace meant Elizabeth was left alone with her thoughts, her doubts and uncertainties that seemed to drown her in anxiety. Large doors creaked open in protest, dragging her out of deep thought. Cold air rushed in like it was greeting a lost friend, she shivered as the wind enveloped her. At the door was Charles, mugs in hand and looking dead on his feet- _like everyone else I suppose_.

“Shouldn’t you be getting warm?” It was more of a demand than a question. Even still, that voice of his -rough yet gentle- was soothing in the current stress.

“I have horses to take care of.”

“They’ll be fine, you should take care of yourself every now and then.” He retorted, handing her the coffee.

Huffing, “I’m warm enough, and I need to be here tonight- in case anyone decides to colic,”

He groaned and plopped down on the wooden bench,

“This weather ain’t agreeable with them.” She explained, sipping the warm drink.

“This weather’s not agreeable with anyone.” He grumbled.

“Did I do something to deserve this visit?” Elizabeth sat next to him, enjoying the warmth of the coffee on frozen hands.

“It's quiet here,” he shrugged, “and away from those idiots.” Didn't need to ask what idiots he meant, it was hard enough to get away from Uncle and Micah. Comfortable silence fell between us, enjoying the first peace we’ve had in days. Hell, it was the first bit of silence we’ve had in days. Gulping down the coffee, she went back to tending to the horses, Charles stayed watching silently.

_How could all this happen? Just days ago, we were in Blackwater, we were supposed to be safe there. Now? Now we're probably going to freeze to death on a mountain if starvation doesn't strike first and-_

“Lizzie,” The annoyance practically dripped from his tired voice.

“Charles,”

“Sleep,” He rumbled, “You’ve been up since we left Blackwater.”

She didn’t answer, still worried, this town gave me a chance to think about all the shit that just happened.

“What do you think’s gonna happen?”

“What, if we survive the cold?”

“You know what I mean,” She huffed, throwing a brush down. “We get off the damn mountain then what? That bounty on us ain’t going away and neither are the people chasin’ us!”

“Worry about that after we get through this, Dutch’ll figure it out.”

“Oh, so this is ‘figuring it out’?” She threw her arms out.

“This is unfortunate, we’ll get on fine- always have.” He sounded so sure, sometimes Elizabeth wished she had his same trust in people.

“If you say so.” Grumbling, she turned back to grooming, “So you’re really serious about this? Us staying with them?”

“ _I am_ , you don't have to stay.”

“Ha! You can't get rid of me that easy!”

“Don't I know it,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He had his hands raised in surrender. “You should sleep. The cabin the women are in is warm,” he looked around a moment, “and devoid of holes.”

“I ain't going to that damn cabin, I’d rather sleep in the snow. Can’t listen to that old crow, ‘Miss Elizabeth- the freeloader- no damn work into camp, pretends she’s a man,” She ranted, “Never mind it's _my_ damn hunting she eats every day and _my_ horses she rides. Thinks ‘cause I share her bits I gotta put the same ‘women’s work’ in. I ain't lazy! I'm just not anybody's maid.” Charles had an eyebrow raised, chuckling. She tossed the brush in an old bucket and stood in front of the man, hands on her hips.

“Ok, I've done what I can. I'll sleep in the hayloft. You,” she poked his chest, “Should take your own advice. Loft’s big enough I suppose, if you don't fancy sharing a bunk with charmin’ Mr. Bell.”

“Don't tempt me,” Getting up from the bench he made his way to the rickety ladder behind her.

They laid on thin blankets and hay that had seen better days, feet apart. Whispering good nights, they had the best sleep they had in days.

 

_Two days we've been on the mountain, two damn days_.

Elizabeth sat in the run-under with Pearson and Charles, they had just watched the men run off the kill the O’Driscolls. Admittedly it left her perplexed, it seemed like a hunt for vengeance even if Dutch claimed it wasn’t.

 “I don’t get it, we don’t even have food and Dutch wants to go on some witch-hunt?” Elizabeth broke the silence.

“He’s just looking out for the camp, O’Driscolls are bad business.” Pearson said, taking a swig from a rum bottle.

“I don’t even know who the O’Driscolls are!” Elizabeth protested, “Seems to me they’re hiding from the law, same as us.”

She snatched the rum from Pearson, took a long drink and handed it to Charles who was still listening quietly. She knew what he would say ‘ _If Dutch says its important, its important’,_ and that irked her. Six months with this new group and she felt he was more loyal to them than her. Perhaps that was selfish of her- no- she _knew_ it was selfish of her to think such things. Dutch had been kind and fair to the pair, a rare occasion.

“How about you get some damn food before we st-“

“I’m going, I’m going. You don’t need to convince me to get away from you,” Elizabeth took another swig of the sharp rum and pulled the bow from Charles’ shoulder who’d begun to walk after her.

“I think I can handle a little hunting, and you need to rest that hand.” She said sternly.

“I’ll live, you shouldn’t go alone.”

“And leave the old coot to hold down the fort? The place’ll burn down!”

It was clear he wasn’t going to take no for answer though, when he strode past her to mount Tiama. With a huff she mounted Ace and followed him into the woods in search of food. They rode side by side, after a year together they’d gotten comfortable in each other’s silence. It was… peaceful.

“This place reminds me of where we met.”

“You mean when you crawled in my camp, bleeding to death?”

“Hey, I didn’t die though,” She smiled at him fondly, “Well, thanks to you.”

“Sometimes I still don’t know how you survived. Not many escape a cougar alive.”

“Pfft, good thing I’m not just _anybody_.”

“No, you are far too _annoying_ to be just anybody.”

“I am just far too skilled to be killed by some cougar.”

“If that’s what makes you feel better.”

“Hush, I see something up there.” She pointed through a clearing in the trees, dismounting quickly. Drawing her bow, she trudged through the snow to get a closer look. Sure enough, two does were picking at the frozen vegetation- they were skinny but two might do well enough. She pulled the arrow and string back, exhaled and let it cut through the cold air- a clean kill, straight through the head. Elizabeth wasn’t fast enough though to get the second deer before it spooked and bolted.

“Go, I’ll pack this one up.” Charles shooed her off. Elizabeth followed the trail down to the river; the doe had met up with a buck drinking. She let her arrow loose on the target and quickly let another arrow fly at the fleeing buck. _Yes! Good eats tonight._ She threw the doe over her shoulder and dragged the buck by his horn, boots sinking in the snow _._  Calling Ace over, she packed the deer on him and mounted up.

“I cannot wait to get off this damn mountain. I could die happy never seeing snow again.”  Elizabeth cursed, hugging her torso.

“We’ll be off soon, Dutch’ll have a plan- trust him.”

“I don’t know ‘bout that.”

“You don’t much care for Dutch do you?”

“Ah, I just think he enjoys his speeches of grandeur and blowing smoke up people’s asses a bit too much. I know he’s been kind to us, but I can’t buy into his ‘fight for freedom’ schtick. But I-well- _I trust you_.” She beamed at him

Charles was taken aback for a moment, but her knew he’d trust her with his life as well. They didn’t speak the rest of the way back; the trip was short and quiet. They saw that the men were back, Javier standing watch at the edge of town.

“Lizzie and Charles!” Javier drawled, “Got us some dinner there?”

“Someone had to take care of camp while you boys were off galivanting. How’d that go? No one hurt?” She asked.

“No, no, everyone’s fine. We got ourselves an O’Driscoll though, Dutch thinks he knows something.”

 “Always does,” She muttered, “Anyways, better get this to Pearson before the man pops a vein. See ya’ Javi.”

The two dismounted and delivered their catches to Pearson who was still nursing that navy rum he so swears by.

“Now you can stay off my back you old bastard.” She muttered, leading Ace into the barn. A young boy was tied up in the middle, he had dark scruffy hair and thin clothes. _He must be freezing_ , she thought. Charles followed behind, leading Tiama in the shelter.

“Mi-Miss! Please you- you look like a nice lady! You gotta help me!” He pleaded, wriggling around in his restraints. Pangs of guilt shot through her, he was just a kid- only a few years younger than herself. He must have been scared, hungry, freezing.

“Don’t talk to her.” Charles hissed.

“Miss-“

“Do. Not. Talk. To. Her.” Charles got close to the boy, his glare a silent threat and the hand over his gun a hint at what would come if he spoke again.

“Charles! Leave the kid alone, he’s just scared.” Elizabeth said, resting her saddle against the stall door. He huffed and walked to the girl, who’d started brush off Ace.

“You shouldn’t be in here with him,”

She gave him a funny look, “And why would that be?”

“Because we can’t trust him.” Charles knew why, he worried too much but he felt protective of his friend. Silly really, He’d seen her take on an army of outlaws and police by herself, yet she barely reached his shoulders. She was _so small,_ it would be all too easy for any ill-willed person to overpower her. He knew that- he just wished she’d realize that. She was too stubborn for her own- She fought to ride with the men, so it was... impossible for her to admit she might be weaker in any way.

“He’s a kid!” She hissed, “And I can take care of myself!”

“Lizzie, please.”

“Whatever you say,” She grumbled and shoved his borrowed bow at him, stomping out into the snow.


	2. Trains and Whiskey

The posse of outlaws were storming down the old road to do this train robbing idea Dutch got from the plans at that O’Driscoll camp. It seemed like a bad idea- a terrible idea, really, Elizabeth thought. People are freezing, and starving and he wants to do this train hit now? Elizabeth hated train robberies- too many people- things could get too messy far too quickly. It was also just a pain in the ass to stop a damn train, too much uncertainty and work for unknown pay. At least she wouldn’t be on the train, she’d been put on the ridge with Charles for lookout- and to put her scoped rifle to good use.

“Hey! You good there?” It was Lenny who brought her out of thought, the newest kid who was still getting used to a woman riding around with the men. She had to admit even she took a while to get used to it, even if it was her that fought tooth and nail to ride alongside them. She didn’t particularly like robbing innocent enough folks, but it was that or the ‘women’s’ work’. Elizabeth would sooner dump the group and Charles alike before she became anyone’s mother and caretaker.

“Oh, I’m fine Lenny. Just thinking is all.” She smiled at him, riding on.

“Don’t think too much. You ready for this?”

“’Course I am, not the first train I’ve robbed.” She forgot how new Lenny was to this sometimes, she was only a year or two older than him, but she had been in the scene longer than he had.

“This is what I call a crew! Micah Bell, Charles Smith, Arthur Morgan, Javier Escuella, and what about young Lenny here? Always first man on his horse. And of course, our little lady Elizabeth Miller.” Dutch yelled from the front of the posse.

“Maybe our little lady should flash the Pinkertons here, get ‘em off out back,” Micah said.

“Maybe this ‘little lady’ should shoot your balls off,” Elizabeth seethed back.

“Everyone shut up and get your mind on the job at hand!” Dutch yelled as they came upon the ridge, the crew falling in line. Bill could be seen fixing up dynamite to the tracks, _he should be done by now._ Arthur rode down to check on the man, who seemed to be struggling even after Arthur lent his hand. He came up shortly, stating Bill had the dynamite rigged up ‘all fine’. _Yeah, I bet he does_ , Elizabeth snorted to herself.

“You ready?” Charles asked from beside her.

 “Always am,” She shrugged, pulling a threadbare navy scarf over her face when the train came into view, “Showtime.”

“Good luck, all of you. You all know what to do.” Dutch spoke.

Elizabeth swung the worn scoped rifle over her back, holding it at the ready. Bill slammed down the detonator and…... _nothing._ Bill’s curses echoed throughout the canyon, like even empty mountains were laughing at his stupidity.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!”

“Where did you find that moron?” Arthur cursed.

“You said it was fine!”

“So, its my fault? You’re pathetic, you know that?” Arthur groaned, running after the train with Lenny and Javier.

 _I hate robbing trains_ , Elizabeth groaned internally as they watch the train power on down the tracks. She looked down the scope of her rifle, trying to set eyes on anyone that made it on the train. The large rock over the ridge blocked most of her view but she could Javier down by the tracks.

“Javier didn’t make it on the train. I can’t see much else though. We need to move up.” She spoke, directing Ace to the train.

 They regrouped with the rest of the men, trying to keep up with the train until it stopped. Finally, the train wheels screeched, red hot sparks flying from the breaks. As the train slowed, it allowed more guards to pop up from hiding. Elizabeth dismounted and ran towards the fight with Charles and Dutch down the ridge, picking off extra men where she could. She took cover behind a large rock, blood rushing in her ears from the adrenaline. Bullets echoed, and gun smoke filled the mountain range as the fight went on.  She poked her head out to take another shot, narrowly missing a bullet that zoomed through the space she’d occupied moments before.

The fight slowly died, and Elizabeth removed herself from cover, the group heading to Dutch in front of the last train car. Angry men could be heard from inside, screaming to stay away from them.

 “What are you boys planning on doing in there? Listen to me, we don’t want to kill any of you- any more of you. I give you my word but trust me we will.” Dutch said. She felt a bit guilty, _of course they’ll be killed- we ain’t good people._

“We work for Leviticus Cornwall!” One of Cornwall’s men yelled out.

“Come on boys,”

“We got orders!”

“Okay, you asked for it,” Dutch counted down from five, “Seems our friends have gone deaf wake em up a little!”

The posse emptied their rounds into the side of the armored car, all the while Cornwall’s men yelling about how the group was wasting their time.

“That’s enough. Mr. Williamson get Mr. Morgan and Mr. Smith some dynamite. You two boys go blow that door open.”

Elizabeth watched the two men secure the explosives, running back once they light the fuse.   _This couldn’t go wrong- metal flying everywhere,_ she thought. In a second, a sizable hole was in the metal where the door once was, she could see from that just how rich this Cornwall was. Gold trimmed walls and plush carpets decorated the car. Three men came out the door, hand raised in the air.

“Alright, come on, just walk on out here. We don’t wanna kill you- we just wanna rob your boss.”

The men were forced on their knees while Arthur, Lenny and Micah went to search the lavish train. She found Charles next to Javier, both eyeing the Cornwall men.

“You alright?” She asked looking him over for any blood. Relief flooded her as the adrenaline passed through her system and the realization that the fight was over- with no casualties. Her shoulders visible relaxed, and her normal smile painted her face again, blue eyes shining in the night.

“Fine, you’re not hurt?”

“’Course! You know it takes more than this to get me.” She giggled, elbowing him in the side.

“I suppose I do,” he chuckled, holstering his pistol. He watched the girl move past him, the first smile on her he’s seen since the Blackwater mess. Charles always knew her as a bubbly, bright girl, not a lot got her in somber mood until now. He reckoned the sun could go dark and she’d still find a reason worth laughing.

“Javi! You still breathing? After that jump I thought you’d given up.” She teased heading to the horses.

“Ha, you wouldn’t be able to keep up with me otherwise, girl!”

“Sure. Whatever you say old man.” She grunted, hauling herself onto Ace. The crew took off back to camp ready to pack up and move away from the damn snow.

Back at camp, Elizabeth was making quick work of hitching up horses and prepping them for the long trip down the mountain. She moved in a frenzy around the barn, packing all the tack and feed they had left. That captured O’Driscoll boy watched her silently, afraid of what this moving meant for him. He wanted to ask her- beg her- but he also didn’t want that big fellow finding out –‘Charles’ he’d heard her say. He was scared to even look at the girl after he’d threatened to The ‘Old Witch’- Grimshaw- could be heard bellowing out orders and insults around the caravan, Elizabeth loathed to even poke her head out during _that storm._

She took a once over of the barn and grabbed Ace’s rains, walking to the main road and avoiding Grimshaw’s yelling.

“Let’s move out people! Let’s get home!” Dutch shouted out.

And so, began the long journey to this new place that Elizabeth could only hope would turn out well.

* * *

 

On the third day of the trip, Elizabeth had shooed off Bill to drive the ‘ladies’ wagon’ to have ‘girl time’ with Karen, Mary-Beth and Tilly. Really though, it was to give her sore ass a break. The girls were admittedly drunk, faces flushed as they passed bottles of whiskey around. Their latest pastime was _horribly_ singing loud enough the whole caravan could hear them.

_My love is a rider, wild bronchos he breaks,_

_Though he’s promised to quit it, just for my sake._

_He ties up one foot, the saddle puts on,_

_With a swing and a jump, he is mounted and gone._

 

_The first time I met him, ’twas early one spring,_

_Riding a broncho, a high-headed thing._

_He tipped me a wink as he gaily did go;_

_For he wished me to look at his bucking broncho._

_The next time I saw him ’twas late in the fall,_

_Swinging the girls at Tomlinson’s ball._

_He laughed and he talked as we danced to and fro,_

_Promised never to ride on another broncho._

_He made me some presents, among them a ring;_

_The return that I made him was a far better thing;_

_‘Twas a young maiden’s heart, I’d have you all know;_

_He’s won it by riding his bucking broncho._

_My love has a gun, and that gun he can use,_

_But he’s quit his gun fighting as well as his booze;_

_And he’s sold him his saddle, his spurs, and his rope,_

_And there’s no more cow punching, and that’s what I hope._

_Now all you young maidens, where’er you reside,_

_Beware of the cowboy who swings the raw-hide;_

_He’ll court you and pet you and leave you and go_

_In the spring up the trail on his bucking broncho._

They finished the song with a shout and side-splitting laughter, Elizabeth nearly falling on Karen as they clutched each other. The four of them were having entirely _too much fun._ It was the longest any of them had gone without having the witch on their backs or one of the boys asking for work. Inevitably, the conversation went around to men- moreover _who they fancied._ Mary-Beth was a bit too sheltered for such a conversation, her head was stuck in those cheesy romance novels she wrote. Tilly and Karen, though, were quite happy to joke about the _finer_ men of the camp.

“Oh that Arthur is quite a man though. What I wouldn’t give for a _ride_ with him.” Karen swooned, slumping on Elizabeth’s shoulder.

“You are horrible!” Elizabeth giggled.

“What? Don’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same to Charles.

“Karen!”

“ _A year_ you guys are alone and _not once_?” Tilly waggled her eyebrows at Elizabeth.

“Charles and I are just friends.” She shrugged, she could feel her face heating- and not from the whiskey.

“But he is nice to look at, you gotta admit that Lizzie!”

“I- I guess maybe, like I said- we’re just friends.”

“But you could be _friends,_ ”

“I don’t think he even sees me like that.”

“Okaaay.” The blonde slurred, turning to the girls in the back, “Mary-Beth you oughta stop writing about them boys and do something! Don’t be boring like Lizzie!”

“I am _not_ boring!” Elizabeth protested, snatching the 5th bottle of whiskey out of Karen’s hand, “You should though Mary. Go find a cute boy! Leave this group of smelly degenerates.”

“No! Don’t leave us here, I wouldn’t be able to bear the old hag without you.” Tilly cried, gripping Mary-Beth’s arm.

“I ain’t going anywhere!” She laughed.

Karen began shouting out another song and Elizabeth swore she could hear Javier and Bill groan from the wagon in front of them.   _Yes,_ the girls were having entirely too much fun.

* * *

 

Horseshoe overlook was a small clearing on the edge of a cliff face, overlooking a valley below. The gang had begun to unpack, some more sluggish than others. Elizabeth had her head low as she unpacked, cursing every time she had to bend down- blood rushing to her head. _I should not have finished off that last bottle._ She couldn’t remember how much they drank on the journey, just that at some point they’d all fallen asleep and the horses had followed the caravan to their destination, thankfully. She was still shaking off that slumber which explained why she didn’t notice Arthur and Hosea’s wagon rolling down the path. Charles jumped down, laying eyes on the small women in camp. Her movements seemed weary, head low and hood covering her face.

“Are you feeling well?”

“Shit! What?” She just about jumped five feet in the air, groaning at the sunlight when she saw Charles. She clutched her throbbing head, groaning.

“Are you alright?” He asked, concerned.

“Peachy,” She groaned, “Don’t let me get on a wagon with Karen and a box of whiskey again. I’ll be fine, I’ve got horses to mind.” She waved him off, still clutching her pounding head. Charles watched the girl rub sores out of exhausted horses, talking to them like old friends. She loved those animals, she truly did, and he pitied the fool that would try to hurt them. He gave one last glance at Elizabeth and went off to offer his own help around camp.

By noon the camp had started to come together, and Dutch called a break setting up to explain their current situation. They’d been given a cover story- itinerary workers laid off when their factory was shut down. A _gentle_ reminder was given that everyone was to earn their keep, and that food was needed. _More hunting for me, at least it’ll be easier in grasslands like this._

They were dismissed, and Elizabeth went to mashing up a herbal poultice for the horses’ sores. Unfortunately, snow didn’t agree with leather on skin and rubbed a lot of them raw and bloody. It hurt _her_ to see them hurt. She worked on this for some time and before long, it was evening. Pearson called dinner and she slowly got up, putting way the jar of herbs. Never had his shitty cooking smelled so good, Elizabeth wanted nothing more than to eat and sleep.

She grabbed a bowl of stew from the line and went straight to her tent, a small luxury she spent her money on. Sitting on the wool bedroll, she scarfed down the vegetable stew and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. She unbuttoned the large jacket Charles had lent her, folding it in the corner. None of her clothes from Blackwater got saved, all she had was the gray button up and light bodice on her back. Both of which had seen better days- she was going to have to buy new clothes, too.  Her hair was still in the same braid it’d been in for a week- somewhat forgotten when she had a scarf and hood around her head. Elizabeth huffed at how nasty it must be, she’d have to get a bath when she was in town too. She mused at the thought as she fell asleep the minute she laid back.


	3. Bar Fights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *edited as of 1-7-19*

The morning light filtered through Elizabeth’s tent, waking her with a soft sigh. She sat up with a smile, realizing she didn’t wake up freezing her ass off for the first time in weeks. She stepped out of the tent groggily but happy, b-lining for the coffee pot. Pouring a generous cup, she sat next to the fire staring at thin air as she nursed her coffee. Javier sat next to her, coffee in hand.

“Morning Javi,” She beamed.

“Morning,” He couldn’t get how anyone could be so cheery in the morning.

“Have anything planned today?”

“Ah, some of us are heading into town, scope things out. All low-key.”

“I don’t think you know what ‘low-key’ means.” She teased.

“You’re right, I’m just there for the drinks and the pretty women,” he laughed, “And a good night!”

She scrunched her nose, “You are disgusting, you know that?”

He laughed, “Sorry Chiquita, I am a man.”

“Oh, are you now? With how pretty you are I figured you were a lady.”

“And I’d make a prettier lady than you!”

She slapped a hand over her chest, feigning offense, “How dare you?” She said doing her best to sound like some fancy old lady.

Around noon, Javier told her they were heading into town. Bill and Charles were coming with on this ‘low-key’ stake out. She doubted it was anything close to that- in fact she knew it was an excuse to go drinking, but she understood the sentiment. The group rode off to town quietly- everyone was tired of each other, she supposed. It really was beautiful land, plentiful wildlife and plants. Even if it wasn’t the untouched west, this still felt _right_ in its own way. They came upon the small town of Valentine, all mud roads and livestock. Elizabeth parted with the group at the general store after asking if the men needed anything- who laughed at her for being so prissy as to wanting new clothes.

Twenty minutes later, Elizabeth had a new outfit in hand and marched to the hotel for a bath. She paid the man up front and thanked him, heading down the hallway. Steam lifted from the soapy water, it was practically calling her name. Practically throwing off her clothes, she eased herself into the hot water, visibly relaxing her. Sighing she scrubbed the dirt and melted snow of the past week off her, the water turning a light brown. She threaded fingers through her matted hair, scrubbing soap into her scalp. After what felt like an hour her hair was detangled, clean, and brushed.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, it was _quiet._ The first time she couldn’t hear Dutch’s speeches or Grimshaw’s cackling. The first time in a week she could think. _God, had it only been a week?_ Blackwater felt a lifetime ago, the journey through the mountain felt even longer. She wasn’t even sure what happened in Blackwater, on that damned boat. She was on the ground, on lookout when it all went to hell. The bustled chaos of lawmen and rallied men stampeding down the street, armed to the teeth was a sight she would never forget. The gunshots rang through the little town, a cacophony of death and destruction that rattled her ears even now. All she knew or could remember was finding the men fighting for their lives on the bank of the river. Soaked to the bone and bleeding, they were utterly defeated. _They had failed, all hopes of ‘the last job’ and retiring were shattered like glass. And oh how they paid for it._ The Callander boys were shot dead and Sean was just…. gone. Elizabeth never cared for the Callander’s, they were needlessly cruel and violent, but Sean… He was an annoying bastard but he was what she’d consider a friend. He was the closest to her age in the gang and on who never second-guessed her abilities because of who she was. _She missed the piece of shit._

Elizabeth shook it from her mind when she felt tears prickle her eyes, there was no time to be sentimental. Not now. She dried and dressed quickly in her new clothes, leaving the hotel happily now that she was clean. She headed to the saloon, figuring the boys were there and that it’d be easy enough to find a drunk man to slip on something interesting. The salon was rather grand for the small town, wide curved stairs that led to an upstairs for _certain activities._ Wood panels and wallpaper adorned the walls with oil paintings hung around. It certainly attracted a _rough_ crowd of men, all donned with guns and scruff looks.

Javier and Charles were standing at the bar, drinking away the stresses of the past week.

“So, how goes the ‘stake-out’?” She said cheekily grabbing the shot of whiskey Charles had just ordered for himself.

“You shouldn’t steal a man’s liquor like that,” Javier warned.

“You shouldn’t start drinking without me,” She chastised.

“If you started drinking with us you’d be asleep by now.” Charles corrected, grabbing the shot glass- this time _out_ of her reach.

“That,” She drawled, realizing he was right, “Is irrelevant.” She wasn’t exactly known for her tolerance.

The saloon doors opened, Arthur walking through. Elizabeth waved him over, forcing a drink in his hands. “Where’s Bill?”

“Oh, man, I dread to think about it. Hey, hey, there he is.” Javier said, pointing to Bill when he walked in. Bill had managed to run into another man leaving the bar and punched him square in the nose. Chaos erupted thereafter, every drunken idiot joining the fight. Elizabeth took a step back form the fight, watching calmly as she sipped her drink. She didn’t feel like fighting a bunch of men twice her size and she also _really_ wanted to see Bill get knocked on his ass. She watched Javier and Charles trade punches with the other patrons when she noticed Bill pinned to the wall getting gut-punched. He was better at starting fights than he was ending them. She huffed realizing she _probably should_ help even if it was funny as hell.

Elizabeth punched his attacker in the stomach and elbowed him in the face when he turned. She missed her target however, the man gripping her arm to the point of bruising as he pulled her. She could do nothing as he held her steadfast, fist flying straight at her. Her face throbbed painfully, blood dripping down her nose as her head was knocked back with such force she swore she could hear the crack of her neck. If not for arm holding so _painfully_ to her she would have buckled under the sheer force of the hit. Bill got the man with a swift hit to the head, his grip faltering. She collapsed as fast he did when the only thing holding her up fell. Her head was pounding, ears ringing from how hard she was hit. She cursed, holding her bloody nose and swollen cheek, standing on shaky feet. The fight was mostly over- save for Arthur and that big man ‘Tommy’ that’d thrown him out the window. Tommy was a big man- easily 300 pounds- and somehow towered over Arthur’s built frame- and he was not a small man by any means. Charles and Javier were already on the porch, cheering on Arthur.

Charles had turned to the girl at his side when he saw angry splotch of red on her cheek and blood dripping from her nose. “You’re hurt.” Charles stated, his brow furrowing.

“It’s nothing.” She shrugged, _even though it did hurt like a bitch_. A hand gripped her chin- so softly she thought she imagined it- turning her bruised cheek so he could look.

“You shouldn’t have gotten involved.” She frowned, why shouldn’t she of? Her friend- well _friend_ was stretching it- was getting beaten into a wall and she was supposed to watch?

“ _You_ got involved.” She snapped bitterly. The only reason she had a bloody nose was because of Bill and his _absolute idiot actions._ She only acted in self-defense, to attack one of them was to attack them all- idiot or not.

“ _I_ can take more punches than you.” What was that supposed to mean? _That she was weak?_

“Yeah, well I’m fine,” She hissed, ripping his hand from her. She stomped off the porch, going to check on Arthur who’d won the fight. Dutch and Trelawny- somehow- were already speaking to Arthur but Trelawny noticed her approach.

“Miss Elizabeth, oh- that doesn’t look good, here.” _Of course it doesn’t look good, she got punched into last week._ The magician handed her a kerchief to hold tightly to her nose, “Javier and Charles. Oh, I’ve missed you, and Bill- looking as well as can be. Gentleman, Lady, always a pleasure.” Trelawney said, bowing to the group.

“You’re right we ain’t to popular in Blackwater.” Dutch said.

“And we left a lot of money there.” Arthur spat.

“And young Sean it seems.” Trelawny cut in. _Sean’s alive?_ Elizabeth never thought she’d ever see him again, assuming he’d be lost to the wind at best. _Maybe that would be for the best- away from the gang._

“Sean? You found him?” Dutch asked in disbelief.

“Yes, I have. He’s being held by some bounty hunters trying to see how much money the government will pay. I know he’s in Blackwater but there’s talk of them moving.” Trelawny explained.

“If we step foot in Blackwater then we’re dead men for sure,” Arthur said.

“They’ll be Pinkertons all over the place but if he’s alive we gotta try.” Said Dutch

“Yeah of course.” Arthur shrugged.

Charles, Elizabeth, go find out what you can- carefully. Josiah take Javier.”

“Can’t we just let the little bastard swing?” Elizabeth groaned.

“As tempting as that might be.” Charles muttered, leading her to their horses. She pulled her arm away from him wordlessly, patting Ace for a moment. She heaved herself on his back, taking off in the direction of Blackwater.

“Can you stop?”

“No.”

“Lizzie-“

“Just let me be? Please.”

The reached a cliffside over-looking Blackwater right before dawn and decided to set up camp there. Elizabeth set up their bedrolls and untacked the horses while Charles started a small fire. He mentioned getting dinner and took off to hunt, leaving her alone to watch camp. She knelt next to the fire, fingering the tangles out of her hair and plaiting it neatly over her shoulder.

Charles walked into camp, rabbits over his shoulder, the fire was little more than a kindle now. Elizabeth was fast asleep against the rotted log, mouth ajar and shallowly breathing. The fire light a soft halo around the girl, though it only seemed to exaggerate her purple cheek that flared angrily. His blood boiled at the thought of anyone laying at hand on her, especially hard enough to cause her such pain.

Elizabeth Miller was an enigma to Charles, a bright bubbly girl that was as likely to shoot you as help you on your feet. He’d seen her fight and kill more than her fair share, yet she never looked the part- her face was all soft edges and curves. Round cheeks that never quite lost their baby fat flushed so easily at passing compliments and full pink lips that she chewed on when thinking. She always had a doe eyed look to those sky-blue eyes, even in the middle of shooting sprees and robberies, they sparkled.

Her shirt was open, exposing the worn bodice she’d ripped the steel supports out of, and the cream camisole she wore under it. The stained fabric was a harsh contrast to the unmarked skin it concealed. It was like a literal metaphor laughing at him, a battle-ridden criminal that dragged a young woman down his path. Before she met him, she was a hunter that lived off the land, moved with it. She was dirt poor and underfed but alive- when she didn’t risk her hide for a cougar pelt, so she could get _ten whole dollars._ He felt to blame for the person she'd grown into. _He_ was the one who held her when she wailed ‘ _murder'_ after her first kill. _He_ was the one who justified it- _it was him or you._ _He_ was the one who assured her when they stole from people, _we have to survive._ Charles had wanted the girl to be able to survive with or without him, if need be. By the time a year went by, she was as capable of stealing and killing as he was. He both made and broke that woman. He supposed that was why she trusted him so unequivocally, she was what _he made her. ‘I trust you,’_ he recalled how _open_ she looked on that hunt in the mountains, bright smile on her face.

Yet, the tiny woman had changed a part of him as well. She’d forced him to live solely off the land for a time- _take a breath_ \- and sold pelts and extra meat they'd hunt. It was… content, for a while. He had almost forgotten what it was like to live without planning the next robbery, or train heist. After leaving his last gang and riding alone for a time, he enjoyed her company- her loud laughs and jeers. He was almost relieved when she decided to stay with him. Days of treating a girl half-dead that made jokes about _the cougar should of sold my pelt instead._ He grew fond of her and the ride down the mountain was a long one that made him realize _he didn’t like being alone._

Charles groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. _Yeah, he was screwed._


	4. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow someone actually read this?? Im surprised AF but for real 21 kudos that's awesome. This is the first fanfic I've written in a long ass time but its a nice break from my art history paper.

Elizabeth woke to the smell of fresh coffee and rabbit roasting on the fire. She yawned awkwardly- her cheek felt the size of a rock from how swollen it was. It was an ugly  splotch across her face in an angry shade of purple and blue. She sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, and spotted Charles kneeling at the cliff-side, looking through binoculars.

Pouring a tall cup of coffee, she walked to the man, “See anything interesting?”

“Uniforms. A lot of them.”

“Sean?”

“No.”

 “Where the hell’s Trelawny and Javi? Can’t do shit with our faces plastered everywhere.”

“They’ll be here.”

“If Trelawny doesn’t talk him to death.”                     

Charles chuckled, “How’s the face?”

“Hurts,” She shrugged, “I’ll live.”

He rustled through his saddlebag for a moment, pulling out small vial, “Wolfs bane, it will help.”

She took a swig of the brown liquid, a sharp, bitter taste hit the back of her throat. She hacked, grabbing for her canteen to swish her mouth out.

“It tastes like ass,” She spat.

“It's not meant to taste good.”

Blackwater was a small desert town- nothing but sand and unfortunate idiots and outlaws. It sat on the mouth of a river, a trading port for the west. It was fittingly named- the water was so black Elizabeth remembering thinking it would swallow her whole. That the town’s sins stained the water so black it was like the reflection of hell itself.

She glanced at the bustling town below, the one that held so many memories- good and bad. It was _thriving_ , moving on as though the ferry job never happened. Like they never noticed the merry band of outlaws was gone and broken. Blackwater was the first home she had since she was fifteen - it was the first time she stayed anywhere longer than a week. Where she learned how to rob trains and steal coaches. It was where the girls taught her to pickpocket and pick up Johns to rob, where Javier showed her the _finer_ points of robbing someone outright. _Where I learned to become a criminal._

Yet, it was where Uncle taught her poker, and where she drank with Sean and Lenny through the night. Where Arthur taught her to hold a pistol and where she tricked Bill out of $25. It was where she beat Charles in a race, Blackwater was _home_ \- until it wasn’t. It felt wrong to be back, like she was going to become a pillar of salt at any moment.

“You think too much.” Charles said suddenly from behind, she jumped, snapping out of her thoughts.

“Yes, I think you’ve told me that before.” She chuckled.

“We’ll be gone of this place soon and we can go home.”

“Oh, we have a home now?” She said dryly.

Charles gave her a stern look, one she knew so well, was silently reprimanding her. Of course, the gang was home to them- wherever they went. She loved the gang- _she did_ \- but she worried about Dutch’s state of mind as of late. She thought him a frivolous man that couldn’t admit when his time had come and passed- but she knew Charles loyalty to the man. Dutch was... well he was one the first that didn’t question or make assumptions about a young woman travelling alone with a man. It was something the two were grateful for, even if others in camp didn’t understand- _namely Micah._

“Hey lady!” She turned, seeing Javier walking into camp. She hadn't heard him ride up, “Whoo- that does not look pretty.” He pointed to her cheek.

“I’m still prettier than you.”

“That hurts Lizzie, that hurts.”

“Where’s Trelawny?” Charles interrupted.

“Dropped him off outside of town, figured I’d spare you the pain.”

“How kind of you,” She laughed.

“You two see Sean?” Javier asked.

“No- just lots of uniforms.”

“And our faces on every damn wall.” Elizabeth added.

“They haven’t hanged him yet?”

“Think he’s bait or they wanna try him publicly.” Charles huffed, sitting by the fire.

Elizabeth offered a coffee to Javier and sat across from the two, nibbling on some bread. They chatted around the fire- mostly about what the hell they were going to do and where they were going to go. Trelawny rode up to camp some time later, bearing bad news. Sean was being held by bounty hunters but there was talk of moving him up the river to federal prison.

“We can’t break someone out of federal prison!” Elizabeth protested.

“We either rescue him now or cut loose.” Javier said

“Were not cutting anyone loose” Charles said sternly.

“Ike Skellington’s boys are moving him to a camp nearby before handing him to the government.” Trelawny explained.

“We gotta cut them off before they get to that camp. I’ll head up the north-side, you three head up the other side of the valley and meet back up.” Charles ordered, mounting up to cross the river.

The three mounted up and headed down the river, spotting a boat. They decided to follow it, stake out before they made a move.

“Sean must be on that one.” Elizabeth pointed.

“We should follow it- and check that Sean is on it _before_ you kill anyone.”

“So, the hell happened to New York? Thought you took off to forget about us low-lives.”

“Life happened I suppose. Never a straight road.”

“I get that. You alright Javi?”

“He hasn’t stopped talking since we left Valentine, longest ride of my life.” Javier groaned.

“Cute, dear boy, very cute.”

“They stopped, see if you can see anything.” Trelawny instructed.

Elizabeth pulled out her rifle, looking down the scope to the boat. A tied-up man was being dragged from the boat- albeit kicking and fussing- by three men. They pulled the hood from his face revealing the red-headed Irishman and kicked him in the stomach- they certainly weren’t gentle with him.

“That’s definitely Sean- certainly putting up enough of a fight.”

“Oh, they’re giving him a decent kicking.” Javier exclaimed

“With the shit he’s given ‘em, I surprised they haven’t shot him.”

The three rode down to the mouth of the river where two guards sat watch. Trelawny went around to create a distraction while Javier and Elizabeth got in position to take down the men. They crouched knee-deep in the water waiting for Trelawny to come out, crying about his ‘dear wife’ that had taken ill. They crept up behind the men, stabbing the blade of a knife through the throat. They crept up the canyon, taking out the guards one-by-one.

The met back up with Charles at the top of the ridge, who directed them to the bounty hunter’s camp at the top. Elizabeth pulled out her old revolver, finding cover behind a stack of logs. Javier shot first, and frenzied excitement tore through the air. Gun smoke and the smell of blood filled the camp, the sharp smell of iron and rust hitting her. Bullets hit the log Elizabeth used, the wood cracking and groaning under pressure.

“How many people does this bastard need? Sean worth this damn much?” Elizabeth cursed.

“Maybe we should turn him in ourselves.” Charles joked.

“Hey, still time.” Javier yelled out from his cover, shooting a man in the shoulder.

Elizabeth moved up and around, trying to flank some men at the cliff. Blood pounded in her ears as she aimed high, hitting one square in the head. The two others fell quickly and just like that it was over. Elizabeth hated the sudden, swift end to gunfights- it was akin to a cold bucket of water being dumped on you. She caught her breath for a moment, ears ringing and chest pounding.

Sean was tied upside to a tree, cursing up a storm that he hadn’t been let down yet. Javier cut the rope and he fell with a grunt, wrestling with the ropes that tied his feet.

“Lizzie! I know ya’ missed me!”

“Like the plague.”

“You can worry no more! Ya big brother is back!” Sean threw an arm around her shoulder and squeezed fondly.

“Oh, shut up!” Elizabeth laughed, elbowing him in the ribs, “I’d shoot myself if you were my brother.”

“Like a stab to the heart, I still love ya though Lizzie!”

“Alright- alright, get outta here before _I_ stab _you_ in the heart.”

“Oh no- I was stuck with Trelawny the whole way. You two can have fun with that.” Javier protested, waving his arm at them as he mounted up.

Truth be told, Elizabeth thought Charles would insist on Sean riding with her- not that she would have minded. But Charles directed Sean to his mare, wordlessly demanding him to mount up.

“And here I was hoping to ride behind pretty little Lizzie.” Sean joked. The glare Charles gave him could have broken glass. He was stiff, tight-lipped and Elizabeth had never quite seen him like that. _The hell has gotten into him?_

“Do you ever stop talking?” Charles grumbled, his voice taut. He huffed and prepared for the most painful ride of his life.

* * *

 

The camp was lively, happy and energetic to have the first _real_ good news since Blackwater. The gang was drinking and singing and dancing to Javier’s guitar. Sean was currently _sloshed_ , standing on log and joking that he would whip the girls into shape- to do some ‘real work’. Elizabeth sat at the fire, beer in hand and listened to Javier pluck away. She sat next to Arthur, who’d not talked much since the Irishman returned- hadn’t even drank. She noticed he’d been somber as of late, he might hide it- but the man was a worrier. No matter how much he pretended to be strong idiot, she knew this. Arthur had always been kind to her- hell he was never outright mean to anyone. He was a good man- all things considering, she believed.

“You all right Arthur?” She asked. He looked at her, looking lost for a moment before he came back to Earth.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Dance with me!”

"What? No- I ain’t a dancer.” It was almost cute to see the bad outlaw fluster and panic over a dance.

“Oh, have some fun, dance with me!” Elizabeth had jumped up, tugging on his arms.

 He thought for a moment and gave in to the girl’s demands, getting up with a chuckle and an ‘okay _’_. They swayed to the beat of an upbeat Spanish song and he twirled her around in hand. She was happy- the happiest she’d been since Blackwater. She happy to be away from that place though, perhaps that was why she’d drank so much. The two danced, swaying and laughing with each other like old friends.

“If only the Pinkertons could see you! Robber, murder and dancer!”

“Oh, you wouldn’t dare.” He dipped her, blood rushing to head and increased the fuzzy feeling around her.e d

“I won’t tell a soul,” She laughed, patting his shoulder as they parted. He bowed and left her with a breathy ‘my lady’.

She walked for a moment, searching the camp- for what she couldn’t say. The beer case was as good a place to look as any though, she thought.  Grabbing a bottle, she slammed the cap off on the wooden table. Her eyes fell on a clearing in the woods- a figure sat alone, and she knew she found what she was looking for.

“Not gonna join the party?”

“Haven’t you had enough of those?” He waved at the beer, his voice sounded scratchy and worn.

“Hmm,” She nudged the bottle at his shoulder, “I’m not drunk.”

He took a swig from the bottle, staring at the tree line. He looked…. tired. She was struck with the image of Atlas, a man that sided with a dying time and was trying to hold up the world he knew for the people he had left. She plopped on the ground with a deep sigh, leaning on the rock he sat on.

“You know, its OK to actually act happy every now and then.” She knew the man liked his peace and quiet and he wasn’t one to sing and dance with the group. He was reserved- always was- she knew he was happy to see Sean back but partaking in parties wasn’t him.

So, they sat in silence, taking in the woods around them. It was often something they did before they met the gang, he taught her to enjoy the sounds of the forest- its serenity. The camp was behind them, muffled cheering and singing a background to the concerto the woods played. Before she knew it, she’d fallen asleep, head resting against his leg.

Charles looked at Elizabeth, mouth agape and cheeks flushed, hair falling around her and draped over his thigh. Even passed out drunk she looked _cute._ He was surprised for a moment, he tensed before relaxing, exhaling shakily. He ran a hand through her curls slowly- almost like he was afraid she’d wake at any moment. He grazed a thumb against the purple of her cheek, his stomach churned. She was beautiful- too beautiful for an angry bruise to be marring her face. He thought she was _beautiful,_ and he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

And for the first time in a while- looking at the girl drooling on his knee- he felt _home._


	5. naiveté

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *edited as of 1-7-19*

Elizabeth woke with a moan, squinting at the light squeezing through the gaps in her tent. Her head throbbed lightly from the events of last night. She was in the woods with Charles- and she assumed she must have fallen asleep. She didn’t remember going back to her tent or taking off her boots - did Charles do that? She shrugged it off and pinned her hair up when she noticed a mug next to her boots. It was tea- mint- and steam still rose from the hot water. Did he do that too? She smiled softly  at the thought of him sneaking tea into her tent or pulling a blanket over her.

Elizabeth grabbed the mug and stepped out, morning light bathed her in a soft glow. As subtle as it was, it caused sharp pain behind the eyes, low pained groan to leaving her lips. She sat down at the fire, sipping her tea. It was early, no one was up yet. The sun was barely over the cliffside, the sky a canvas of purples and pinks. It gave the camp a rare sense of tranquility that put Elizabeth at ease.

“Morning.” Charles sat next to her, coffee in hand.

“Thanks,” She raised her mug a bit, “For this, you know.”

“Sure.”

“You know, I hope this works out.” She spoke softly, the obvious gesture to all of it. _To all of the camp._

“We’ll be alright.” He assured, she hummed in acknowledgment.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” She whispered, nodding to the Picasso-esque sky.

“Yes, it is.” He breathed, looking at her fondly.

She turned to look at him, locking eyes with him. _He’s close._ She could see the browns in his eyes, the light freckles on his cheeks. They were hair’s breath away, noses so close to touching he almost appeared fuzzy. She could feel his warm breath upon her cheeks as they just _stared._ He stared so intently is was impossible to look away, like she’d been pinned to her spot with eyes alone. She cleared her throat and like that, the spell was broken. The two sat straighter, tension thickening as they sat awkwardly. She looked away, fiddling with a lock of hair. Charles sat up, rubbing the back of his neck and swallowed stiffly.

“Um- Anything planned today?” She squeaked out.

“No, hunting maybe.”

“Hmm, Pearson on your ass?”

“The camp’s too loud.”

“You didn’t seem to enjoy the party last night.”

“You seemed to enjoy it enough for the both of us.”

“Fair enough.” She laughed, “You… want company on this hunting trip? Could get away for a few days.”

“Later perhaps, John asked me to help him with something.”

“Oh-uh- yeah of course. Just let me know.” She stuttered.

Arthur had come up to the fire behind the two, rasping a ‘good morning’ and tipped his hat at Elizabeth.

“Miss Lizzie, you mind accompanying me for a bit?”

"Course, Arthur. Oh- I’ll see you later, Charles.” She waved, following the blonde man.

They tacked up and mounted quickly in the early morning. He said he needed Elizabeth’s _expertise_ for a Polish man Strauss lent money to- didn’t speak English. They rode out of camp, chatting about life and the group.

“So, you and Charles huh?” Arthur said, a mischievous lilt to his voice.

“What about it?”

“Oh nothing. You two seem close.”

She shrugged, “He saved my life, we’ve known each other for a while.”

“He likes you, you know.”

“I would hope, we are friends.”

“Nah but he- he’s sweet on you.”

“Wh-What? Why are you telling me this?”

“Ah I guess I’m tired of seeing you two with your heads in the sand that’s all.”

“Maybe you should stop looking so much at my life then.”

“Hey, ain’t no need to be getting all defensive.” He defused.

“Sorry. I know you mean well,” She sighed, “How much longer?”

“Not far.  Say, you never mentioned how you learned German.”

“My mother- she born in Germany, crossed over with her family. But- well they didn’t make it, so she made learn it- said it was important. ‘ _Vergiss niemals deine Familie’_ \- Never forget your family.”

“You don’t talk about your family much.”

“Guess I just don’t like dwelling on it. Fever took my mother when I was twelve, and my father was- well he tried- but he got real sick- Cholera. Guess he didn’t want to get me sick too, so he just left one day. And, well, only so long goes before someone’ll take advantage of a girl living by herself in the middle of the woods. I left and never looked back, that was five years ago.”

“Five years ago? You’re what twenty-three- twenty-four now?”

“What- you think I’m that old? I’m hurt.”

“Ha! If that’s old girl I don’t want to know what that makes me.”

“You’re just _well-aged_ Arthur, I’m twenty-one.”

“You’re Lenny’s age? How many kids we got here?”

“I’m not a kid!”

“Between you, Sean and Lenny we got ourselves a right family.”

“Yeah, what a family we are.”

“We have our charms,” Arthur laughed, “This is the place.”

The pair dismounted at the small cabin on the hill, Arthur barged through the door. The house was quaint, worn furniture and empty pantry- it didn’t look like he had two pennies to rub together. The man inside was yelling in Polish, Arthur was demanding back at him to pay up. The thin wisp of a man was freighted, panicked yelling and pleading.

“ _You speak German- Yes? You borrowed money from Leopold Strauss, we just need the money and we will go.”_ Elizabeth tried to soothe the man the best she could given the situation.

_“No- no I don’t have anything. Please, I can hardly afford to eat.”_

“He says he doesn’t have any money.”

“Bullshit.” Arthur cursed, grabbing the man by the shirt collar. He punched the man. Hard.

“ _Please! I don’t have anything!”_

“Arthur!” She hissed, “ _Just tell him where the money is!”_

“He know where the money is now?” He punched him again. And Again. Again. She cringed with each hit, the sickening c _runch_ of skin hitting skin made her stomach churn. Seeing a man getting beaten- e _xtorted-_ was upsetting enough. Seeing your friend beating a man? That was more than she could handle, like she was watching him beat down the very lie they told each other. _That what they were doing was necessary. That it was okay._

 “Arthur! Stop! He’s broke!” She pulled at his arm, begging. Sadness, guilt, and regret dripped from her voice as it cracked higher.

“ _I have silver in my chest, take it! Take it and leave, please!”_ The pleading of a broken man they begged for nothing but his life, the last few possessions he had left. She suspected that silver was the last of whatever heirlooms and family he brought from Poland.

“There’s jewelry in his room. Just stop! Please.” She pleaded, still holding his arm.

Arthur looked at her a moment, her eyes wide and pleading. _Afraid._ He still had a fist raised at the weaselly man. Nodding mutely, he dropped the man no more carefully than one would a sack of potatoes. A harrowing reminder that Arthur- kind, gentle Arthur- was a _bad man_. That he was the bad man he always insisted he was whenever someone said otherwise. And yet, he was a good man. He’d taught her, looked after her. How could someone so _good_ be so _bad?_  

She felt bad for the man, crossing the ocean only to beaten by someone for borrowing money he needed to _survive_. They stole from rich people- not folks trying to get by- _like them._ At least that was the ‘code’ the group seemed to tell themselves. The _morally ambiguous_ code that they swore by _only when it was convenient for them or Dutch._

 _“I’m sorry, truly.”_ Elizabeth felt utterly useless, what good did her words do after her companion beat the man half to death. What good was her remorse? In his eyes she was just as bad as the man who raised the fist. _She watched._

“Got it, let’s go.” Arthur walked out, holding up a small jewelry bag. He was so _unfazed_ by it all and it made her feel all the more anguished by it. How could he _not?_

Elizabeth stomped out of the small house, mounting wordlessly. Movement sharp and stiff through her anger.

“Is this really all you do? Beat people?” She spoke so quietly, lilt of guilt peaking in her soft words.

Arthur huffed, how does one answer that question- that very complicated, _gray_ question. “Look, they shouldn’t have borrowed the money if they can’t pay.”

“So, you beat them for it? Aren’t they just trying to- to live- like us?”

“Lizzie, that ain’t the same thing.”

“Isn’t it?” She grumbled, riding up ahead.

“I don’t get it, you rob people- you’ve killed people.”

“I don’t beat them,” She seethed, “I don’t steal from people that can’t afford to eat. I don’t do it unless I have to.” _Unless I have to_ but she still did it. Why was her needs more important than whatever poor soul found the end of her gun? When did she allow herself to judge that? The mental gymnastics she did to justify her own action in the course of Arthur’s like she had to prove to herself she was _better_ than him.

“Uh-huh. Charles tell you that one?”

“Shut up.” She snapped, because in some way, she knew Arthur was right. And that was the worst revelation of all.

* * *

 

When they set eyes on the road to camp Elizabeth ran off ahead and left Arthur in the dust. Charles was on guard duty down the road when she ran past. Arthur rode up next to him shrugging at the man. Arthur rode up next to him, shrugging at the man.

 “What was that about?” Charles asked,.

“Ah, kid’s just upset- she’ll get over it.”

Elizabeth stormed through the middle of camp, straight to her tent- grabbing a beer on the way. She entered her tent, slumping on her bedroll with a huff. She knocked back the beer, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. She knew Arthur was just doing his job- or whatever you could call it. And it was hypocritical- she who’s robbed trains and killed- angry at Arthur beating a man for legal work.

 But there was a difference between beating a man for money and shooting a man for money, at least it was what Elizabeth told herself. Made her feel like it wasn’t so wrong, easier to justify if you never saw the person you killed.

She let out a shaky sigh and unpinned her hair, coming her fingers through the curls roughly. Tearing her boots off and throwing them in the corner, she laid back to try and sleep off her anger.

She woke up later in the evening, stomach growling. She wandered out of her tent, b-lining to Pearson’s stew. Six months ago, she’d rather starve but his cooking was an acquired taste. _Least until your tastebuds get killed by it,_ she chuckled to herself. She filled a bowl and sat on a log near the cliff, overlooking the valley below. It was so pretty down there, peaceful and naïve of the criminals watching over it. Naïve of the criminals planning to run that little livestock town into hell and back. Naïve of _her._

 _She_ was naïve. Thinking she wasn’t _good_ per se- but that she wasn’t a bad person. She didn’t want to believe that and why? Because beating a man was out of line but killing men trying to do their jobs is fine? Just because they worked for a rich man? _People trying to get by just by like us._ She wondered what would have happened if she left Charles at that mountain, where she would be today. Probably starving to death, but not a criminal. _Criminal_ \- that’s what she was now, it was strange to think of herself like that. Yet, she found solace in being in a whole den of criminals- her family. She heard someone walk behind her, she wiped her eyes quickly, seeing Charles.

“Hey,” Elizabeth rasped, trying to hide the tears prickling her, “Am I an idiot? Wait- no don’t answer that.”

“You still up for that hunting trip? Get away for a few days, clear your head.” He coaxed.

“I don’t need you to baby me.”

“Just looking for company on a long trip, are you coming?.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”  She whispered, smiling at him.


	6. Where the Buffalo Roam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this would have gone up last night but I got distracted looking up the difference between buffalo, bison and ox (which I'm still not 100% on lol)... and then I fell asleep.  
> In other news, seriously you have no idea how happy I am that you guys are enjoying this! and thank you so much for the comments! I've been smiling non-stop since yesterday  
> *Edited as of 1-7-19*

Charles and Elizabeth plotted down the road, headed to the valleys near Rhodes. Elizabeth was chatting his ear off about… something- he’d stopped listening a while ago, admittedly. He had to laugh at himself- inviting her on a trip when he wanted quiet- Lizzie and quiet weren’t always a thing.

“Elizabeth,” He grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“And Karen was- oh, what?”

“Do you hear anything?” She knew that was code for _shut up._

She snapped her mouth closed with a _pop_ , searching the tall trees around them for something to keep herself preoccupied with. She went from counting the trees to number of clouds in the sky- she really got bored too easy. A crack of thunder interrupted her thoughts, heads snapping to the dark clouds trailing behind them. Elizabeth could feel the electricity in the air, tingling goosebumps on her arms.

“That’ll be a bad storm, we’ll have to find a place for the night.” Charles stated.

It was pouring- hard- the two and their horses were soaked to the bone. The wind was harsh, slamming them to and fro. Elizabeth was freezing, hugging herself close to Ace. They still hadn’t found any shelter to speak of, almost deciding to turn to the forest so they’d have a _little_ cover, when a derelict cabin off the path came to the rescue. It was small, porch rotted out and the door was barely hanging on, but it was dry- and had a run under for the horses. They hastened the horses to cover, untacking and Elizabeth fumbled with the girth, her fingers numb and stiff. With a curse she got the buckle free and slid off the saddle, carrying it into the little house.

A brick fireplace sat at the back wall, Charles was trying to spark anything with his drenched matches. A stained and worn bed sat near the door- Elizabeth shuddered to think just what all was on that bed. The little house was simple, no pictures or letters- like it was used but never lived in. It was the kind of place she would have liked to live in, yet it didn’t feel very comforting. Eventually, Charles got a dry match and the fire was lit, warmth slowly filling the room. She placed the saddles in front of the fire to dry out, holding her hands out to thaw.

She saw Charles, shirtless and hanging the wet article up. He’d rung out his hair, wild and messy over his shoulder. His cheeks were wind-chaffed and flushed from the cold- _can men be pretty?_ She questioned, snorting at herself- Charles would _kill_ her if he heard her say that.

“You should change- you’ll catch cold.” He nodded to her soaked shirt.

“Oh- yeah,” She flushed, clearing her throat, “You mind?” She raised an eyebrow at him, fiddling with her buttons.

He turned away, Elizabeth couldn’t help staring at his bare back for a moment, dark hair tangled between his shoulder blades. _He has so many scars_ \- she wondered how a man so big could get hurt so much- or one so gentle. A _testament to his violence,_ she surmised. It was a reminder that as kind as he might be, he had blood on his hands- he’d stolen from people _like her._ He could have- maybe he should have- left her on the mountain or kicked her off at the little mining town. She wondered if this was a path she would always take, or if Charles simply acted as a catalyst for the unavoidable. No matter, _she_ had blood on her hands too- she had stolen from people _like her_ now.

Shrugging out of the shirt and unlacing her bodice, she laid them flat and dug out an old button-up from her bag. It was Charles’ old shirt that he’d given her because it _somehow_ got too small, though she couldn’t fathom how the man could have gotten any bigger. She buttoned up the oversized shirt, the sleeves were far past her hands and the hem nearly fell to her knees. She felt like a kid that had put on her father’s shirt.

“I’m decent,” She stated, clapping her hands together with a sigh.

Charles turned around, recognizing the old shirt of his that looked more like a dress on her. The wide collar slipped down her bare shoulders, wet from the soaked hair weighing around her. Dark wet curls were plastered to her pink cheeks, nose red and mouth agape.

The two sat shoulder to shoulder, warming themselves in front of the fire. She gasped quietly- like she’d remembered something- and leaned over to riffle through her saddlebag. She pulled out a bottle of Scotch whiskey- expensive too- presenting the bottle to her friend cheekily. She purchased it when she was supposed to be getting supplies for their little trip, _to live a little_ , she’d thought. Popping the cork, she knocked back the liquor, reveling in the warmth it spread down her throat. She offered the bottle to him, but he’d waved a hand at her in rejection.

“Can you just drink? Have some damn fun!” Elizabeth insisted, practically shoving the whiskey at Charles, “Come on, there’s no one here! No one’ll know you’re anything but a sulky bastard- I swear!”

“Alright _Sean_.”

“Hey, I’m nothin’ like that idiot! Come on!”

He looked at her a moment, contemplating, and held his hand out expectantly.

“See? You can get that stick outta your ass,” She cheered and bumped his shoulder, “Can’t resist my good charms, huh?”

“You _are_ Sean.” He groaned, swishing back the burning liquor. 

“And you’re a grumpy old man.” She snapped lightheartedly, snatching the bottle back.

“I am not _grumpy_.”

“But you are old?” She teased holding the bottle behind her when he tried to grab it, “Careful! You’ll break your back at the old age of _thirty_.”

“Watch it or I’ll break _your_ back.”

“Oh, sure you have the energy for that old man?”

“I have enough energy for a _lot of things_.” He said intently, leaning close to her.

She looked every which way, like she was searching for a meaning behind his words in the musty wood walls. He was close, their noses almost touching, breath fanning her face. His arm snaked around her waist- her whole body felt like pinpricks running through her. His touch was so feather-light she wouldn’t have believed he was there if not for the blush in her cheeks assuring her. Before she knew what was happening, the whiskey was snatched from behind her back and like that he was _gone._

“Hey!” she squeaked, face hot and head reeling and what transpired. He was smirking, drowning his laugh in the whiskey- he knew _exactly_ what he did.  She grumbled something and pulled her knees to her chest, hiding her hot face and the embarrassment.  

She pretended- or rather _forced-_ to be preoccupied with trying to tame her hair- the rain and wind made it a matted mess at her neck. She was frustrated, trying to smooth it out and braid but she never got far before it would tangle up again. He said nothing, but silently pulled her hands away. He combed through her hair, gently unravelling the knots. She was staring blankly at the fire, sighing deeply whenever his fingers brushed her neck shoulder. He placed the braid over her shoulder, fingers lingering on the bare skin and caressing the hair tenderly. She didn’t know how long they sat like that- she wasn’t truly paying attention. She’d spaced out feeling comfortable, and relaxed. It was only when he cleared his throat and mumbling something about sleep that she’d snapped out of her daze.

The next morning the two were back out, headed to the plains. They shot down a few birds to collect feathers (and have a healthy shooting competition).  She took down a sizeable buck- one that would make even Pearson happy. Though the air of the plains was uneasy, she couldn’t explain it but it felt… off. Perhaps it felt off though because Charles was so _alert._ They found a dead bison that had left for dead, shot for sport. Charles was becoming increasingly quieter as they went as though he were deep in thought.

“I’m gonna check something- I think I saw something.”

“Okay,” She said quizzically, eying him as he rode off. She made quick work of the buck hide and went off to find him. She went over the ridge where she saw another dead bison rotting in the sun- that was what must have set him off. She followed the trail, crossing more and more dead bison just left to rot.

A gunshot rattled off the large rock formations of the Plains and seemed seem to shoot straight into her constricting chest. Urging her horse forward in panic, pit forming in her stomach. If Charles was in trouble or if that _had been_ Charles she- she couldn’t.

Coming upon a camp, she saw Charles- pistol pointed at a man and yelling. He was demanding the man to tell him _why_ he shot all those bison. He hadn’t even noticed her- she had to grab his arm to pull him out of whatever tunnel vision he had. Still, he didn’t look at her, didn’t move the gun- he just _boiled_. Charles was not a temperamental man, she’d never seen him so angry before- hell she’d never heard his voice raised. His brows were furrowed roughly- his eyes looked so _cold._ His lips were pulled in a thin line, jaw clenching so hard she swore she could hear his teeth grating.

“Lizzie,” He forced out like he was still coming up with the words, “Leave.”

“Charles, what are- what are you gonna do?” She asked shaky, seeing the dead man with blood pooling from his chest.

“They killed those bison!” His voice was _shaking_ with rage, booming so loud she could feel it in her chest. He closed his eyes amount, an attempt to calm himself down as he spoke shakily. “Elizabeth. Go.” The anger poisoning his voice.

“You don’t have-“

“Go.” It was softer, barely more than a breathy whisper though she knew it wasn’t a request.

She nodded slowly, letting her hand drop and trudged away from camp, her feet heavy. As soon as she was out of site behind the ridge, a gunshot echoed through the valley. She leaned against the rock wall with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest. He came around the bend pacing, seething and unable to form words, throwing his hands up every time he opened his mouth but snapped it shut just as fast. She watched him wordlessly, pacing and huffing in a fury. Eventually, he worked himself down and hissed out a ‘go home’ through his teeth.

They rode in an awkward the silence- the tension was thicker than fog on winter morning. She kept glancing at him from the side, contemplating. The silence was deafening, a horrible tension Her mouth was only open a second before he snapped at her, “Don’t.” The weight, the ire in his voice was _chilling, strange._ It was suffocating, like a blanket had been wrapped around her too tightly.

When they got back to camp, he snatched the buck off her horse and threw it down at Pearson’s table, storming out of camp. Elizabeth watched him concerned, untacking and brushing Ace and Tiama.

“Lizzie! Come here, I need an easy win!” Javier beckoned her over.

“Please, you boys ready to get your ass handed to you?” She jested, plopping down at the old barrel table. Javier, Bill and Lenny were playing poker and Bill seemed to be the lucky man of the night- a sizeable attack of chips at his side. She was dealt in, placing her bet in the pot.

“Javi, I’m disappointment in you. Getting beat by _Bill-_ really _Bill_?” Elizabeth said.

“Oh shut it Lizzie,” Bill snapped, drinking from what was probably his tenth beer that night.

“I got bad cards, but you have worse luck than me so I’m good now.” Javier laughed.

“Hey, its Elizabeth to you!” She pointed at Bill accusingly.

“What’s the difference?”

“You ain’t my _friend.”_

“Now you’re just being rude.”

“Oh, I’ll show you _rude,_ you drunk.” She spat, throwing down her hand to reveal a straight flush. Bill dropped his with a curse, showing a flush hand.

“I thought you wanted an easy win?” She mocked with a cheer, collecting the pot.

“Ok, I’m out.” Javier huffed.

“Yeah, me too.” Lenny said.

“What? I just got here!” Elizabeth complained.

“Sorry Lizzie, I stay here any longer and I’ll be broke.”

She sucked her teeth, “Man, you already are broke!”

She went back to her tent, placing her bag in the corner. Sitting down, she mended together arrows with the fresh feathers she’d plucked. She focused on the newly-made bundle of arrows in her hand, heading over to Charles’ bedroll. He was still in the woods, _good,_ she thought setting the arrows on the worn cotton. It was nothing- small but was what little she could do in thanks. The man didn’t take ‘thank you’ or ‘you’re welcome’ well, she learned the hard way that it was better to show appreciation in other ways. She hoped it would at least give him peace of mind. He could swallow his anger fast, but he hid and held it well when he needed. _Actions speak louder than words_ and Charles was the living embodiment of that.

She was alone with her thoughts and all she could think about was the night in the cabin. She was almost disappointed when he pulled away, felt… colder somehow. Her face grew red remembering how close he had been, how many thoughts had run through her head, she groaned. She could still feel the arm snaked around her waist, grazing her back. She remembered thinking- _wishing_ \- he did a lot more than skirt across her back. _‘I have enough energy for lot of things_ ’ echoed through her mind- like a sick joke that tortured her wild imagination. It spiked an uncomfortable heat in her stomach, fluttering at her daydreams. She groaned, it was going to be a long night.


	7. Pretty Girls in Pretty Dresses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments and kudos, I fucking love you guys! I hope everyone had a happy Thanksgiving! This is a little short and I'm not too happy with it but I've been staring at it for like 2 days so I just want to get it out there.
> 
> This is the dress Elizabeth wears- technically its from 1870 but its too damn pretty. (I wish ballgowns were still acceptable I'd wear the shit out them).  
> https://i.pinimg.com/originals/89/5b/b4/895bb42a7084c7551c1102bfde646bfa.jpg

“Lizzie, you are looking beautiful on this fine mornin’!” Sean strut up, his best sweet-talking put at work.

“What do you want Sean?” She asked dead-pan.

“ _Want_? I can’t compliment my lovely-“ He stopped talking, seeing it wasn’t working, “I need someone of your _repertoire_ for-“

“I ain’t wearing a dress.”

“I’ll give you 10% of Lenny’s cut.”

“Where’s the dress?” She said already standing.

“What? Not cool man.” Lenny complained.

“Hate the game not the player.” Elizabeth joked, hands up in surrender, taking the package from Sean. She ducked into her tent, unwrapping the rough paper to reveal a purple silk evening gown. The slip was cream and frilly, over the shoulder. The bodice was decorated with frills around the hem, bows at the shoulders and snipped in at the waist. The skirt flared out, frills lining a slip that fell mid-way.

It was a fancy dress- had to of cost quite a bit- unless Sean was stealing from seamstresses now. When was the last time she wore a dress? Before she left home? She could remember that plaid green gown her father gave her on her 15th birthday- seemed a life time ago. She loved that dress- all puffed sleeves and high waist, _the latest fashion_ he’d said.   _She wore it when she left home,_ all her belongings on her back. What happened to that dress? She used to carry it with her everywhere- for nothing else but to remember- but it… disappeared. Like everything else from her old life, it just slipped away.

“Oi, you done prettying yourself up, lady?” Sean bellowed outside her tent.

“Can you give the _lady_ the time she needs?” she snapped, twisting her hair. She twisted locks out of her face into a braided bun, leaving a few curls to frame her face.

“Why am I in this fancy get-up anyways?”

“A fancy little country club in Strawberry- only takes _society's finest_.”

“And… why does this include me? In a dress, I might add.”

“They have a storage room for their guests’ luggage and _you_ are going to get us in.”

“You and Lenny are doing what exactly?”

“Lenny will be your dear chauffeur and I'm sneakin' in as a server. Have faith Lizzie! Stealin' from rich idiots is like taking candy from a baby!”

“That just _fills_ me with confidence.” She mocked stepping out, careful not to tread on the fine train of the gown.

“You look a proper lady now Miss Elizabeth!” He snorted, bowing and trying to kiss her hand. She flicked him on the nose when he got close.  

“You are an idiot.” She joked.

The three- dressed to the nines- walked through camp a laughing, joking mess. Sean and Lenny were tipping their silly looking top hats around the _high society lady._

“Where the hell are those fools goin’?” Arthur said puzzled, watching the spectacle of the three kids in evening clothes parading through camp.

“Ah, the Three Musketeers of the camp,” Hosea nodded, “Not causing trouble, I hope!” He yelled at them.

“Okay, _Dad_.” Elizabeth howled, waving from the back of the wagon as it drove off.

“We’re all doomed.” Hosea moaned, shaking his head at Arthur.

* * *

 

The three drove down the road to Strawberry, close to the country club.

“Ok, Lizzie you get us in there and take this,” He shoved a small suitcase in her lap and pushed her off the wagon, “Good luck!”

“What? Wait, how?”

“Just freak out- I don’t know- get in the room.” Lenny suggested.

“Great.” She huffed, straightening out her skirt and walked to the club entrance.

The doorman dipped his chin at her with a polite _ma’am,_ taking the suitcase from her. Just the outside looked like she couldn’t even afford to be _breathing_ in its direction. A large white painted building with a grandiose porch and too tall French doors. The floors were lined with plush carpets that stretched to gold trimmed walls. She thought about just scraping the walls and they’d never have to do a job again. Large windows were decorated with elaborate- floor sweeping velvet curtains, sheer lace letting in just enough light from the summer day. Rich folks in tailored dresses and suits enjoyed their tea and lunch-ins, none the wiser to the shit world outside of their own.

Elizabeth was directed to a table in the middle of the imposing- s _tifling-_ room, tea and water set out before her. The food smelled good- way better than the _mystery stew_ Pearson whipped up. She was this close to staying for lunch- _when in Rome do as the Romans do._ She settled into the fancy restaurant, thinking of how to get into this storage room. She was waited on- _she was seen-_ as a _lady_ not an outlaw. It was strange- not entirely unpleasant- and new, she mused over tea.  With a huff and deep breath though, she prepared her ‘act’.

“I need my luggage! My mother’s broach- I don’t have it! I need it!” Elizabeth wailed, grabbing the arm of the first waiter walking by.

“Ma'am calm down, we can get your bag too you soon.”

“No! I need to know! If I forgot it I must turn around before the train! I can’t leave without it! _Now_!” She wailed, gripping his arm tighter.

“Ok, ok someone can take you to your bag. ” He calmed her, waving another waiter over.

“Yes, now!” She insisted, ushering the bellman out.

He walked her down the hallway to the front door, opening a side room lined to the walls with suitcases and bags. _Jackpot!_  The man pulled down the suitcase Sean had given her, placing it on the floor at her feet.

“Oi! Watch what you’re doin’!” _Sean_. Crashing plates and yelling men could be heard from the main room, the man that helped her rushed out. She got up frantically, pulling bags off the shelving when Lenny poked his head through the door. She hissed at him to get in and close the door, riffling for any valuables. Some of these bags had more traveling  clothes than Elizabeth could ever remember owning at one time. She threw diamonds, pearls and pocket watches alike in the satchel Lenny had over his shoulder, loud fighting and running muffled through the door.

“We gotta go, Liz. Sean’ll get beat to hell soon.”

“Alright, grab my bag and let’s go.” She pulled him up hurriedly, peeking through the slit in the door. She marched through the door, head high and calm down the street. Sean was thrown out the building behind them, cursing up a storm in an accent so thick it made Elizabeth’s head spin. They rounded the building, Sean jumped on the two laughing.

“What did I tell you- easier than babies! I love you guys!” Sean exclaimed, hugging the two to his chest.

“Come on man, lets go sell this shit.” Lenny smiled, clasping Sean’s shoulder as he walked to the wagon. By the end of the day they were at the fence in Emerald Ranch, pawning off their finds. Elizabeth sat on the edge of the wagon, legs swinging as she hummed.

“We did it, boys!” Sean cackled, picking Elizabeth up by the waist to swing her around, “A thousand bucks, Lizzie!”

They rode back to camp laughing and jumping in their excitement, yelling about getting _right sloshed and partying._ Elizabeth had stolen Lenny’s black hat, tipping and waving it to passersby with a giggly _my lady_ and _gentleman._ The merry trio had ‘announced’ their arrival to camp by the laughing and jeering they were partaking in at an _obnoxious_ volume. She felt _pretty_ twirling around in her dress, skipping elbow to elbow with Sean. Lenny had walked off some time ago, huffing that he wasn’t going to ‘make a fool of himself actin’ a kid’. Sean twirled her around and she twisted until arms wrapped around her, _large arms._ She twisted around coming face to face with Charles, brooding look on his face.

“Hey,” She smiled, skirt fluttering around her.

“Hey,” He rubbed the back of neck, “Walk with me?”

She nodded, following him into the woods- to a spot he often came when he needed peace. He guided her with a hand to the small of her back, relishing the soft silky fabric there. He stood there awkwardly, like he hand't though he'd get this far and didn't know what to do up to this point. 

“You drag a girl in a pretty dress out to the middle of the woods and don’t even have the decency to ask her for a dance.” She huffed. He looked at the girl, perplexed for a moment. He straightened himself out with subtle smirk.

“A dance?” He held his hand out for her.

“I thought you’d never ask.” She smiled bright and innocent, taking his hand.

He grasped her hand softly, the other wrapping around her back.

“You look beautiful.” Charles _meant it._ He had never seen Elizabeth in a dress, always in oversized men’s and children’s clothes. It suited her, he had to admit- perhaps too much. It _did_ too much to remind him she was an attractive young woman. Somehow, that dress made her more innocent and more mature all in one feat- and it was _killing_ him.

She gaped at him, eyes darting as if looking for a lie in his features. Yet, all she saw was truth, warmth- a friend. A man that she knew didn’t lie, a man that she knew wasn’t prone to such sweet talking.

“Would you be mad if I said ‘you too’?” She asked. He chuckled, she could feel his deep baritone through the hand splayed on his neck. He pulled her closer, both hands on her small waist. She had both arms around his neck, fingers combing through his hair. They just leaned into each other, feeling content in the serene night. She leaned her head on his chest- they were more swaying now than dancing- but it was soothing. The pair stayed quiet, dancing to some long-forgotten rhythm as they simply lived the night.

“Hey,” she whispered almost muffled by his jacket, “You smell like shit.” She joked and he laughed- _really_ laughed- for the first time in a long while. He pinched her waist in light-hearted warning with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Can you ever stop talking?”

“Probably not.”

“You should give it a try.”

“Maybe,” She hummed against him, truth was he smelled like pine trees and dirt, like the forest he loved. He smelled like home to her, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being there,” She shrugged, “For being _you._ ”

“Always.”


	8. Trains, again?

Elizabeth and Charles sat close together by the fire, enjoying their morning coffee. They’d been in Horseshoe Overlook for a few weeks now and things finally seemed to be turning around for the gang. John had walked up to the pair, set on his train job.

 “Charles, you want in on this train job with me and Arthur? Catch ought a be good.”

“Sure. When?

“Tonight. Well, you want in too Elizabeth- for lookout? You can see the whole damn state from that horse o’ yours.”

“Trains, _again_?” She grumbled.

“It’s good money.”

“Oh, I suppose.”

She groomed Ace until his black coat was shiny and smooth, soothing and sweet talking the large animal. She was standing on a bucket to comfortably reach his neck, humming contently. She did a running braid, twisting flowers in his thick mane.

“Ah hell Lizzie, that’s a man!” She craned over her shoulder, seeing Arthur looking amused and ashamed at her.

“What? I think he looks cute.”

“’Cute’? He’s a man, he ain’t supposed to be cute.”

“Don’t you listen to him. You’re the most handsome man here,” She giggled, leaning to look her horse in the eyes, “Did you have to save that jackass?” She gestured to Micah who walked by.

“Dutch sees….. _somethin’_ in him.”

“Don’t worry sweetheart I can _show_ you how good I am.” He must have heard his name- a damn shark in the water when he heard people talking about him.

“You _show_ me anything Micah and I will shoot you.” She snapped.

“Such a temper on a pretty lady, you should watch it.” He said, almost with a hint of warning on the edge of his voice.

“Enough Micah, get outta here.” Arthur interfered, inserting himself between Micah and Elizabeth. He gave up rather easy, walking away before any unsavory situation happened.

“Right,” She drawled with a pop, “Why the hell did you save him?”

“Who the hell knows.” Arthur sighed, giving a breathy chuckle at the sheer anger Micah could stir in people.

Micah had been here all of _one_ morning and Elizabeth was already sick of him. Oh how nice it was when he was rotting in jail, and oh how she took it for granted.

* * *

 

That evening, the four took for the train tracks. Explaining their plan of action and that the passengers were harmless rich folk that didn’t need to die. _Because they were moral now_ , Elizabeth snorted. They rode up to the tucked away wagon- they could hear the Irishman before they saw him.

“The hell are you doing here? I said you couldn’t go.” John confronted him.

“How come Lizzie gets to go?”

“Cause I actually _do_ shit.” Elizabeth pointed out.

“I do tons of shit! Every day,” He shrugged at the last part, looking pleased with himself.

“Well I can _aim_!” She jested from the from the saddle. The men loaded up on the oil wagon and Elizabeth plodded down the road beside them.

“You know, I disappear for a couple of weeks and you cut me out of all the action.”

“They were cutting you out of the action _long_ before you left.”

“I thought you loved me Lizzie!”

“Only in the way mother loves her touched in the head son.”

“You’ve gone an’ joined the old bastards now? They take all the fun outta you Lizzie? But you and me- we still got blood pumping, they’re afraid of us- The Youth!”

 “And ain’t no one afraid of you or _your youth_.”

“I can always show you what my _youth_ is capable of.”

“Do you have to talk so much? Its incessant.” Charles groaned.

“Here’s the track, stop.” John instructed, almost glad to put an end to their conversation

They unhooked the horses, letting the leather fall to the ground. Arthur directed the men to hide behind the tree line and Elizabeth took off further down the road. She could hear the squeal of the brakes and horn of the train as it slowed. Eyes peeled for innocent travelers and lawmen alike, she paced up and down the main road from Rhodes. The forest surrounding her was so tranquil she almost forgot there was a train robbery in progress. Riding at night, in the stillness of the trees was a guilty pleasure of hers. Made her feel like, for a moment, that time was still. As though the image of an undisturbed woods with winds rustling the leaves under a starry night was so _surreal_ even time had to stop for a second look.

She shook herself out of her blank staring, registering the flame-bright lights through the trees. How could anyone be here already? It’d only been ten minutes at most. She whispered a few choice words and kicked Ace into gear back to the train.

“We gotta go guys!” She hollered, running the length the of cars.

“How many?” Arthur yelled from a flatcar near her.

“I don’t know, two at least.”

“Get on here, we can take ‘em.”

“Arthur this don’t feel right. We should go.”

“Lizzie, get on here or get cover there. We’re stayin’.”He said firmly, gripping his pistol at the ready.

“I’m not getting killed for ya’ll idiots! It’s too fast!” She shouted in frustration.

“Lizzie, get up here.” It was Charles this time that reprimanded her, voice sharp and left little room for argument. She chewed on her lip anxiously, eyes darting to the woods around her in unease. With a huff and a curse she clambered up the car and behind a behind a box. _This is so fucking stupid._ Just as she’d reported, two men rode up demanding the group to step down. Arthur antagonized the men, telling them ride on before things got ugly. And ugly it did- a damn battalion of law came shooting through the trees.

Bullets were passed and traded, cutting through the dark. Elizabeth was biting down an _I told you so_ as she targeted the men before her. There were a _lot_ of men- perhaps more than held Sean- and it did nothing to settle the deep dread in her chest. Horses screaming in terror and men dying destroyed the serenity of the night like a hammer to fine china.

“Let’s get the hell out of here!” John hollered, booking it to the horses. They practically catapulted on their horse’s backs, bolting down the road. Ducking and shrugging bullets as they flew by, they attempted to lose the men hot on their tail. She could hear the sharp cutting of air as bullets whipped past her head, the pounding of horses’ hooves behind her like a drum to her own heartbeat. The group gained enough headway to veer off into the woods without being seen.

“That was real fun, guess you boys still got some blood going in there, huh?” Sean exclaimed with that obnoxious laughter of his.

“Shut up,” Arthur huffed, throwing out the cuts of money.

“Was that a set up? Law turned up too fast.” John questioned.

“Think they followed us from Blackwater?” Charles cut in.

“Nah, I think they was just locals. I’m getting nervous though.”

“Alright, I’m heading into Valentine. See if I can get something going there.” John explained, ready to head off.

“Don’t you _ever_ ask me to do damn lookout if you’re just gonna blow me off like that. Pull shit like that again and I _will_ leave your ass.” She warned, glowering at Arthur and John. Arthur gave a rather bemused _yes ma’am_ and went his way with a tip of the hat. She stood there staring at the rustling leaves trying to catch her own heartbeat on the wind.

“I _hate_ trains.” She huffed, Charles chuckled at her frustrations.

She clicked at Ace to go through the woods, breathing in the smell- the smell of _home._ She said nothing- she didn’t have to- Charles followed her understanding her reasons. She let the reins fall around Ace’s neck, leaning back to let both hands rest on his hindquarters as he walked.

 “You remember that night we went hunting and we lost the camp. It was dark as shit and you walked right into a tree?” She smiled fondly as she recalled the memory.

“No.”

“Yes! Your nose was swollen for a week!”

“I remember you falling on your face.” He replied grumpy she'd dug up such an  _embarrassing_ memory.

“That was _after_ you, I was laughing too hard.”

“Then it was well deserved.”

“Like it was well-deserved when Ace threw you off?”

“I am _never_ riding him again.”

"Don't piss him off." She shrugged knowing Charles was a great rider, she just had a temperamental bitch of a horse.

Elizabeth cursed, feeling raindrops fall on her cheeks. She looked up, seeing dark clouds blocking the stars.

“We should hurry, come on,”

“Can we _not_? The camp was so nice before Micah came back.” She groaned, “It’s his first night back at camp. He’s gonna be shitfaced and I don’t wanna deal with that.”

“Why would you have to deal with that?”

“I _don’t_. He’s just- just Micah being Micah,” She corrected herself when she saw his concerned look, “He hasn’t tried anything. He just- I don’t feel like listening to him telling me what a nice ass I have.”

“Would you like me to ‘speak’ with him?”

“Yeah I bet you would,” She snorted, “As tempting as it may be, he’d never shut up if you did. He’s all bark and no bite, Charles.”

“Just… let me know if he gives you trouble,” He eyed her warily, “And we should go back to camp this storm is going to roll through soon.”

The storm came through alright, they were barely back to camp when lighting started cutting through the sky. The camp was eerily still, everyone taking shelter in tents or wagons with tarps over the entrance. She slipped her saddle of Ace quickly, nodding to Charles before darting through camp, saddle on her hip. Safe and dry in her little tent, she plopped the saddle down and shrugged out of her wet shirt. The wind howled and slammed against the tent, the rain sounding like bullets hitting metal above her. She groaned knowing she wasn’t going to sleep tonight- not with that damn noise. She settled for reading instead, pulling out a tattered and stain paperback, pulling the lantern closer to her.

She lost track of how much time had passed but she was regretting not eating dinner before that train job. She ran out in search of food, no longer able to ignore the gnawing in her stomach. She was riffling through the barrel of fruits when she saw a leg. She had to of jumped a foot high, screaming as her heart jumped to her throat. The leg- or the body attached to it- jolted awake, slamming their head on the table.

“Charles? You scared the shit out of me! What the hell are you doing?”

“I can’t listen to Javier or his guitar another minute.”

“So you’re out here? You’ll get sick! Just- _ugh_ \- grab some beer and come on, _idiot_.”

“Honestly are you trying to get sick? Its freezing out there!” She huffed, holding the tent flap open for him.

They sat across from each other, drinking to the pounding of the rain and whistling of the wind. They weren’t that far apart truth be told, the tent was small- really only meant for one person. Elizabeth had purchased it with her own money, she didn’t like sleeping in an open camp of fifteen people with little privacy. Their knees were touching from the confined space, she was curled in on herself to give room for Charles’ long legs. She was cramping though, and gave up, stretching out her legs on top of his. She had her bare feet crossed at the ankles over his thigh. Warm hands grasped her calf, gently massaging any tension there. She smiled softly, eyes closed and leaned back.


	9. Rainy Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone order fluff? Cause I wrote it instead of my fucking essay so I hope you guys are happy.

The next morning she woke feeling rather hot and noticed the heavy weight at her hip. She still had her legs thrown over his lap and was curled into his side, head burrowed at his back. His hand gripped her hip lightly in place, head thrown back and snoring softly. _He looked adorable,_ she snorted at the image of the large man passed out like a child. She groaned, feeling stiff from being at an odd angle all night. She stretched out her limbs, waking Charles from the slight movements. He pulled his hand from her quickly, clearing his throat. She sat up groggily, much less aware of the man’s worries about their closeness. Outside the tent, the storm was still raging on, the wind whistling through the cold air.

“Morning,” She mumbled through a yawn, “I think we’re stuck here.”

He nodded- the acknowledgment he was listening- it seemed Charles wasn’t going to be one for conversation at the moment. With a huff, she laid back down and played idly with a button on her shirt. She went from counting down from 100  to counting old stains on the tent walls, huffing and puffing out of sheer boredom.   

“I have cards!” She gasped like she was just remembering this fact. Rustling through the nightmare of a bag she kept in her tent, she pulled it out with an _ah-ha!_

“Can you never sit still?” He groaned, not feeling too up for cards in the morning.

“But that’s boring,” She laughed like it was the most obvious statement in the world. She shuffled the deck, eyeing him as he ignored her to fiddle with the knife. With a pout, she leaned over to snatch the offending object away from him. “ _You_ are so boring, just play the damn game?”

She put the knife behind her, throwing down the card decks. They started a game of _bullshit_ , filling their time stuck in the little tent. Passing rounds quietly, sneaking glances and longing stares over card hands with her legs stretched out over his. It was nice- peaceful- and a moment she wished could be frozen in time.

“Bullshit.” Charles called her out, not believing her buff of two Aces. She cursed, frowning and taking the card pile, “This is not a good game for you, you are a _terrible_ liar.” He laughed at her.

“You’re just too good at reading people,” She pouted, playing her turn.

“ _You_ are the one that is easy to read.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing bad.” He shrugged.

“Will you stop that?” Charles snapped glaring at the girl- even if it was about as threatening as Bill was.

“Stop what?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“That!” He pointed, grabbing her bare foot to stop its incessant wiggling against his leg. She shrieked, trying to kick his hand away when he grazed the sole of her foot. A grin slowly worked its way onto his face, registering her reaction. His hand crept its way to her legs and she watched helplessly as she understood where he was going with this.

“No, no- no! Charles!” She squealed as his hand came down to hold her firmly, brushing her sole. He kept a firm grip on her foot, tickling her relentlessly. She was thrashing around, laughing and crying until her stomach ached. His baritone laughter almost drowned out her own as he wrestled with the girl’s legs. She snapped upright, gripping the arm that held her. He stopped suddenly, turning to Elizabeth who was panting mere inches away from him. Her ragged breaths fanned his face, the flickering of the lantern casting a dramatic shadow along his jaw. Her ocean blue eyes were wide in curiosity- and mischief- flickering from his lips and back up. She was still giggling  between breaths, the grip on his forearm flexing with each rise and fall of her chest. He swore he could feel the pounding of her heart through her fingertips, seeming to do nothing but speed up his own.

He leaned closer to her, so slowly it was almost a dream, blurred and distant until he disappeared and his hot mouth was on hers. She was stiff, shocked, eyes wide open and arms hung limp.  Following him, it was clunky- awkward– her movements unsure in regard to his own but it was soft and slow and _utterly saccharine_. Her head was fuzzy, running a million miles a minute, overwhelmed from the smell of gun smoke and pine to the rough hands smoothing down her arms.

“Well hello,” She bubbled, pressing their foreheads together with a giggle. She felt lighter than air, grinning up at Charles with laughter stuck in her throat. Her grin fell, a serious look painting her face as she thought, “Don’t tickle me again.” She frowned.

“Or what?” He challenged.

“I’ll kick your teeth in.” She said seriously- or as seriously as she could pull off, smiling by the end.

“Yeah?” He chuckled, pushing Elizabeth down by the shoulders, letting out an airy laugh. In another instant his hands were on her ribs, poking and prodding as she howled. She positively shrieked when his _freezing_ hands snaked under her shirt to tease the bare skin there, recoiling from the overbearing sensations. She just took Charles in as he hovered over her, black hair falling like a curtain around them. She marveled at how _at peace_ he looked, for once he didn’t have creases in his brow. Most of all, she was glad he felt comfortable enough to just _stop thinking_ and _worrying._ Even just for a moment, she wanted him to have some peace from the headaches of camp and the gang.

He must have noticed her far-off expression as she was lost in thought, hands still and hovering over her. She snapped back when she got an idea, biting down a roguish smile. Her hands darted to his sides, trying to elicit the same reaction he’d pulled out of her. He just stared smugly at her, amused at the confusion melting into frustration on her face. She cried when his hovering hands snapped back around her waist to tease the spaces between her ribs. Laughing at her yelping and relentless jostling against his rough palms.

She reached for his face with shaky hands, trying to concentrate as he tickled her sides. He stopped to look at her, hands settling as she stroked his cheekbones. She looked at him so wholly unadulterated and adoringly _it wasn’t fair_. His chest felt too large- or too small- he wasn’t sure what he was feeling, or if he had felt it in a long time. His hands traced patterns on the soft skin, grazing the scars of claws and bullets long forgotten. She was an angel and he was in heaven, surely dead.

He leaned down, ghosting her lips with feather light touch, hovering there like he wasn’t sure she was real. Tangling her fingers into his long hair, she claimed his lips with her own, forcing him to crash back down to Earth. Soft and so _overwhelming_ , holding promises and emotions too complex for words to form. Could feelings even be portrayed through a kiss, she wondered. What was _she_ portraying? Lips moving against each other less awkward this time, Elizabeth beginning to understand the movements. It was warm and slow, far too easy to get lost in the feeling of her soft lips and smell of soap. He leaned on a forearm tangling his fingers in her curls, the other smoothing over her soft curves. She was uncertain, struggling to keep pace with him, brows furrowed and eyes scrunched.

“You think too loud,” He breathed, tapping her forehead before swooping back down again. She leaned up to meet him, hands tightening around his shoulders. It was meant for nothing more than to enjoy the feel of each other, moving languidly. He had to laugh a little, it had to be the first time he'd ever seen Elizabeth speechless.

He groaned sitting up and pulled her with him, pulling down the hem of her shirt that’d rolled up. She sat back across from him, face red and lips swollen, smoothing her ruffled hair. He pulled out a knife, idly whittling and ignoring the girl that went back to huffing and twiddling her thumbs. She felt air-thin, like for a minute she could forget the world outside around her- _around them._ But she felt on top of the world, energy shooting through her limbs and it felt impossibly dull to sit around.

She noticed she couldn’t hear the storm anymore, “I think it stopped raining,” She stated, crawling to the tent flaps. Sure enough the sun was out, reflecting off the puddles that collected in camp. She started to step out but stopped and thought a moment. She was almost _afraid_ , like leaving would shatter the illusion- the clock striking midnight. She glanced over her shoulder at him, chewing on her lip in angsty thoughts.

 She grabbed the back of his neck, pushing herself against him, noses bumping. This one was harder, an assurance, a product of anxiety and insecurities. His hands gripped her hips, stubble scratching blissfully against her. Teeth grazed her lips and she shivered, catching her lip between his teeth. She felt miles underwater, the world outside of _him and his damn mouth_ muffled and blurred. Like she was simply along for the ride, hoping she’d be able to come back up for air before drowning. His tongue traced her teeth, a gentle encouragement to open up. She pulled back with small gasp, eyes burning into him with trepidation.

“Sorry,” He soothed, rubbing circles into her hips. He was- surprisingly- flushed like her, hair tangled and mussed from her fingers. She relished in the feel of the rough scars and stubble decorating his jaw, fingers tracing idly. He looked much more at ease at this than she did and she wasn’t sure if that was much comfort.

 Elizabeth gave a smile- like that was all she needed to know for what she was searching for. Tearing herself away and stepping out of the tent, she breathed in the fresh air, stretching before going for coffee. The camp was gross though- really- she felt like a frog jumping over mud and puddles to avoid ruining her clothes. Yet she didn’t care, face was almost aching with a permanent smile while her stomach fluttered. _That really happened- Holy shit- that happened._

And then the embarrassed blush crept up her face- **_that_** _happened._ She detoured rather quick to Ace at the edge of camp, hiding her face in his neck. Throwing a bridle on him, she slid on bareback to ride through the woods. She knew she would absolutely die of humiliation if she went back into camp with a beet red face. Sighing, she let Ace walked where he pleased- enjoying the cold air blowing against her hot cheeks. He’d stopped at some point, opting to graze in the valley. She laid against his back, head over his rump and staring at the clouds.

Giggling and tracing her swollen lips she still found it hard to believe anything actually happened. She felt like a giddy little girl- overreacting yet she didn’t care if she was or not. Maybe she cared a little- she was annoyed at herself for acting a mess over a little kiss. She was more mature than that, and yet she was also a twenty-one-year-old girl that had her first kiss. God, she could never tell Charles that- she was sure _he_ would die if he found out.

 _Twenty-one,_ that’s what bothered her- he was thirty, a _t least_. She’d never asked the specifics of his age but she wouldn’t be surprised if he was older than that. _Did_ that bother her? She knew- or thought- it should but she didn’t know what _she_ really felt on the matter _._ Did it bother him? Rationally, she knew he would have never let it go so far if it did, hell- he _started_ it. But was he thinking about such concerns in that moment? How could anyone think about _anything_ in a moment like that? She closed her eyes to clear her head and force her mind to stop running anywhere else. 

* * *

 

 


	10. Lemoyne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I still fucking love you guys and I have my last final on the 6th! I'm off all December so after that I am probably going to re-write this so it doesn't read like a crack addict wrote it at 4am (which is partly true) that has no pacing lmao. Also still thinking of a name so thats probably up too. At the very least this is getting edited *gasp* I know, a miracle, right? 
> 
> This one's long- well longer than the other chapters lol- its like 3000 words and I dont know how that happened.

“I don’t get it.”

“It ain’t hard, ok? You got a _pound_ of steel and a _pound_ of feathers.” She exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air in utter frustration.

“But steel is heavier than feathers.”

“It’s a _pound_ Sean!”

“But steel’s heavier than feathers, ya tool!”

The two had been going back and forth for over an hour, sitting at the campfire. She told _one_ fucking riddle and he had to ruin it. They’d all but annoyed everyone away from the fire, who were all trying to save themselves the migraine.

“Are you guys done yet?” Javier asked- genuinely scared to know the answer. He _wanted_ to enjoy lunch next to the fire but it was clear it didn’t matter much what he wanted at this point.

“Javi, help me out here!” Elizabeth huffed.

“Just give up on the idiot already, chiquita.” He groaned, swallowing liquor in the hopes it would drown out their inane arguing.

“Ok Sean, if I have a _dollar_ bill and a _dollar_ in quarters, they’re both a dollar right?” She spoke slowly, treating him like a right idiot.

“Yeah?”

“So a _pound_ of steel is the same as a _pound_ of feathers, right?”

Sean was quiet, staring at her like she’d made the dumbest statement in the world. His expression dropped in an instant from confusion and an angry understanding. He stared straight into the fire and muttered, “I don’t like that one.”

“Ok, ok so when I was six, I had a sister half my age. I’m seventy now, how old is my sister?” Javier and Arthur practically burst a vessel groaning at the headache Elizabeth caused.

“You don’t have a sister? And ya ain’t seventy!”

“ _Sean!_ Just answer the fucking riddle, how old’s my sister?”

“I don’t know- forty? What’s half a’ seventy?”

“When I was _six_ my sister was _half_ my age, Sean.”

“You keep sayin’ that like I know what it means!”

“If I’m six and my sisters half my age- she’s three, right? So that-“

“ _Sixty-seven!_ Fucks sake,” Javier interjected, “Can you go be idiots somewhere else? You’re given’ me a headache.” he huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What ruined your day?” Elizabeth joked.

“You two.”

“Come on Lizzie, we don’t need these old bastards.” Sean complained, trying to pull her away from the fire- probably to drink.

“I’m stayin’ here.”

“What ya’ torture my brain and ya’ wont even come with me when these sorry sods kick me out?”

“Not my fault you're stupid.”

“Can you two give it a rest?” Javier groaned.

She held her hands up in surrender, retreating from the fire before Sean could notice where she’d gone. Charles was cutting wood for the fire- always working- she couldn’t understand how the man didn’t drop from exhaustion. She knew he hadn’t eaten- probably hadn’t all day- so she grabbed a bowl to bring to him. She stood in front of him, holding the bowl out and said a stern _eat_. Placing the axe down, he thanked her for the food and went to the edge of camp. To the spot in the woods where they danced, she reminisced.

He sat against anold stump, legs outstretched with Elizabeth beside him.

“Arthur ran into some Pinkertons outside of camp.” Charles said, swallowing his stew.

“What? When- are we… ok? Do they know where we are?”

“No, I don’t think so, but they’re watching us. You should take it easy on jobs for a while, too dangerous.”

“Wait- we ain’t moving?”

“Not yet.”

“ _Yet?_ The hell is that supposed to mean? Only so long ‘fore they find us and kill us all in our sleep!”

“We don’t need to move again-“

“No? They probably already know where we are and Dutch wants to stay? What are we doing?”

“Nothing,” He saw her skeptical look, “ _Nothing,_ Lizzie. Just- sleep with your pistol close.”

“Yeah, ok.”

“Take this,” He said pulling something off his belt, holding out a sheathed knife. It was large to say the least, a long combat knife with a black handle.

“Jesus Charles, really? I have a knife.”

“For skinning _deer_ , if someone grabs you-”

“That thing is the size of my arm!”

“ _Lizzie.”_ He said sternly in his ‘don’t argue with me’ voice.

“Ok, ok- don’t get all moody,” she muttered taking the knife, “You really think somethings gonna happen?”

“I don’t know but its best to be ready.”

She hummed in response, thinking- worrying- about what lied in store for the group if they had to move again. What uneased her though was Charles- he didn’t seem worried but was still cautious and on his toes. For him to give her big enough to kill a man it meant at the least he was anxious- afraid of the storm coming their way. And to move again? They’d been already pushed their luck in Valentine and she wasn’t sure where they could even go from here.  The Untamed West was what was promised and they’d been given the East- civilized and controlled.

“Its going to be fine,”

“I’m not worried.” She protested, he raised an eyebrow at the girl as he plucked the knife out of her hand. She’d dug a sizeable divot in the ground when she’d been lost in thought. “I just- I don’t know- still shaken up bout Blackwater, I guess. I’m not afraid- well maybe I am- but for the people here. They’re good people that deserve better than getting dragged off and hung.”

“No one’s getting hung. _You’re_ not getting hung.”

She sighed and nodded, she knew he knew a promise like that couldn’t be made but it was a small comfort none the less. She leaned on his shoulder, closing her eyes and forcing herself to stop thinking. Even when he didn’t talk, just being around the large man eased her. Charles grounded her in a way she could never understand, he was there to pull her mind back to reality when it ran a mile a minute. Just knowing he was watching her back and she his was enough peace of mind. She leaned into his shoulder with a sigh, intertwining their fingers in her lap. He thumbed patterns on the back of her hand, staring blankly at the woods around them. It was… different yet the same friendship was there, only new lines had been made. Trying to decipher _where_ those lines were drawn made every move tentative- on her part at least. Distant gunshots pulled the two away, it wasn’t that out of place until they heard more. _And more. A_ cacophony of gunshots were echoing down the valley, what ever was happing was _bad._

“That’s coming from Valentine.” Elizabeth observed, worry striking her faster than any bullet. Charles shot up pulling her with him, hand hovering over the gun at his hip. They ran the short way back to camp where everyone was on alert, looking over the cliff to catch eyes on the commotion.

Dutch, John, and Arthur came storming up the road with Strauss holding on for dear life on the back of John’s horse. He mentioned Strauss’ leg got shot during the firefight as he was pulled off and away, the old man moaning and crying like he was dying. Dutch and Arthur were having a heated discussion as they walked into Dutch’s tent, Hosea trailing behind. The gang was all standing around, unsure of what to make of what transpired as their leaders argued in the tent. Arthur walked out not long after, looking displeased as he walked to Lizzie and Charles.

 “Miss Lizzie,” He nodded, “Hey Charles, come on. I need you.” Arthur waved him, already going to his horse. Charles brushed her arm, squeezing it lightly as he walked by in a silent goodbye.

“We’re packin’ up everybody! Move out!”

_And back around it goes._

Everyone snapped into action, almost autopilot as they did this for the _third_ time in a month and a half. She got the horses harnessed and ready to hook up, handing them off to whatever wagon was ready to go.  She went back round to the herd and- more horses were harnessed? More than she remembered doing, _I really am going crazy-_ she huffed perplexed. But she also noticed the tack was wrong- mismatched bridles with horses and _\- who the hell was making her job harder?_

That O’Driscoll was handling the horses- the one Charles had almost bit her head for talking to- even after he ‘earned his way’ he was _untrustworthy_ to Charles. She felt bad for him- she did- but she was also upset that she had _retack_ all the horses he’d done. He didn’t know _her_ horses and her blood boiled watching him put wrong tack on the animals- that she _knew_ could end bad.

“No- No! Stop, you’re doing it all wrong. _Goddamn it._ Get off his left- he’s blind there and he don’t like the _fucking blinders_ ,” She spat slipping the bridle off the old gray shire.

“I was just tryna help ma’am, I’m- I’m sorry.”

“First I ain’t a ma’am- you’re probably older than me. Just get- you made-,” She huffed, breathing deeply- he was trying to help after all, “You wanna be helpful? Get the bridle _without t_ he blinders.” She’d never seen someone run so fast for a piece of leather- out of fear or eagerness to prove his place she wasn’t sure.

“Alright, take the Old Man- He pairs with Aries _always,”_ She huffed, realizing she was gonna have to hold his hand through this, _“_ The big bay- he’s a kid with too much energy don’t let him pull you ‘round,”

“And check the chestnut with the star- he puffs his stomach out,” She yelled after him as he took off with the gray to pair him, “ _Right side!”_

He franticly ducked under the horse to get to his other side- _it was gonna be a long day._ She ran across camp, bundling her tent up to throw in her ‘deal with it later’ pile with her saddle. She couldn’t believe they were moving again after _a month. One fucking month_ \- she was starting to think she shouldn’t even bother to unpack if this was becoming a weekly occurrence. She wasn’t used to packing _so many_ things in a camp but she also wasn’t accustomed to staying the same place more than a week. When it was her and Charles they moved every day, but they also only had two bedrolls and the occasional tent. This was like a whole damn circus moving with more shit than a mansion and it was _tiring._

A loud crash and curses made her whip around in just enough time to see Kieran get knocked on his ass. Ace had reared and looking none to happy at the man crawling away on the ground..

“The hell did you do to him?” She yelled, running over.

“I was just tryin’ to tack him an-and he just went mad!”

“Yeah, he’s _my_ horse! _”_ She looked at Ace who was still pawing and snorting fiercely, “Just- finish the last three, I’ll deal with him.”

She cooed at the irate horse, palm outstretched with a peppermint. He was angry for sure- but he was a glutton for mints, she smiled at Ace as he nuzzled her hand. Grabbing the lead rope slung his shoulders she walked him off, ignoring his anxious prancing. She cursed, he was so twisted up she wasn’t sure she’d be getting a saddle on him anytime soon.

She had to slip the saddle on him while he trotted in circles around her, head tucked in and neck rounded as she held him firmly. She completely forfeit his bridle deciding it was too much trouble, tying the rope in a makeshift rein on his halter. The caravan was ready and begun its creeping pace down the road, headed to their new home- wherever that might be. She jumped on Ace quickly, holding back as he tried taking off. Elizabeth had to keep talking and running her hands down his neck until he _finally_ calmed down.

She looked back at Kieran- riding at the back with head hung low. She felt a pang of guilt- he’d been starved, tied and threatened to lose his masculinity by them- and he was still trying to _help_ them. He tried to help _her_ and she snapped at him- why the hell would he stick around? He had a horse, he could b-line into woods and no one would be the wiser and be _free._ Turning Ace around, she rode to back of the train knowing she should apologize for her actions earlier.

“Hey, I’m sorry I yelled, you didn’t know. It’s just he gets real worked up if he thinks he’s getting hitched.” He looked at her, genuine surprise mapping his features, like he couldn’t believe she was still talking much less apologizing to him.

“I’m sorry ma’am-,” He stopped himself seeing her pointed look, “Why though? He’s what- a Belgian? That’s what he’s built for.”

“Percheron. He had a bad accident when he was four, wagon flipped over- took him with it. He’d flip anytime he got near a wagon after that. Said he was useless- he’s a cart horse that can’t pull a cart. They tried beatin’ him into it and when that didn’t happen, they tried shootin’ him. I paid everything I had to get him away from there. He ain’t useless, he’s just… better at something else.”

“You rescued him?”

“I like to think he rescued me- I’d be insane, speakin’ to the trees right now if I didn’t have him. Can- Can I ask you something?”

“Oh, sure.”

“Why don’t you just leave? You could go right now- no one’s even watching you. You wouldn’t have to deal with these assholes anymore.”

Oh I ain’t no better out there, Colm O’Driscoll would have me in a second. Despite… _everything_ ya’ll are good people and I don’t gotta worry bout him getting me when I’m here.”

“Oh,” she popped, “So you’re staying with us because… you’re afraid?”

“No- well yes- no, I don’t know.” He stuttered, he hadn’t thought about it like that before. He hadn’t done much thinking since he was too busy insuring the less friendly of the gang didn’t kill him for one mistake.

She laughed, “I suggest you figure that out before someone else asks you.”

“I guess I should.” He said, laughing with her, albeit nervously. He was walking on eggshells with every breath, afraid even laughing would offend someone or rather offend the large man that loomed over her shoulder at camp.

The caravan moseyed through the roads to Lemoyne, all backroads and mud this state was. They crossed a muddy riverbed where they met up with Charles, leading them off to deeper part of the woods to reveal a clearing. It was well hidden, deep in the woods and by the bank of a massive lake. It certainly was aesthetic, being next to the water and able to watch the horizon over the lake. Even if the air was heavy and stuck to you like tree sap, the place was a luxury compared to the mosquito ridden woods.

So began the long process on setting the camp back up and untacking the horses. This time though she was patient with Kieran, he knew horses well she learned. So she taught him their names, their particulars and what made them tick. It would be nice to have another hand to help with how fast they’ve demanded the horses get done to roll out. She was painfully aware of Charles watching her like a hawk as she talked to Kieran, he was making arrows with focused precision eyes never leaving her. She groaned knowing she would have to deal with it at some point or another. Maybe she could go around? But her tent was in the direct path of the boxes he worked on, she cursed walking over to him.  

“How was the ride?” She asked, hoping to avoid any lecture on his part.

“You shouldn’t talk to him.” He said sternly, _so much for avoiding the topic._

“He’s actually pretty nice and he helped me with the horses!

“And he’s an O’Driscoll.”

“That doesn’t mean any more to me than it does to you. He turned on ‘em.”

“So how do we know he won’t turn on us? He can’t be trusted.”

“Whatever,” She groaned rubbing her forehead.

He grabbed her hand noticing the red on her palms, inspecting the angry welts. She’d forgotten about with how busy and long her mental to do list had been

“It’s nothing- Ace was worked up that’s all.”

“ _Ace_ did that?” He knew the horse was a handful but he had never hurt the small woman that rode him.

“Kieran thought he was one of the cart horses, came at him with a harness and- well you know how he is.”

He nodded, he learned the hard way how he was, nearly killed him the first time he tried riding him. Charles placed her hand in his lap, searching through the bag at his side. He slathered poultice on her palm wordlessly, cooling the stinging skin there. She watched him perplexed and fondly as he focused on her hand with furrowed brows, wrapping it with featherlight touch. He brought her hand up, placing a soft kiss to her open palm, warmth bleeding through the rough fabric. She smiled, shocked he did something so _daring-_ and caressed his cheek. Her heart swelled with something she wasn’t sure of- a feeling she didn’t know how to understand. But she _knew_ she felt safe, warm, _content_ and that had to stand for something, right?

All things considered, it was going to be okay.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You cannot convince Sean wouldn't be that guy from the fucking steel is heavier than feathers. Its officially canon- I will live and die by this.


	11. Childlike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Im not dead I promise! Well sort of- I got done with finals on Friday and like went into a coma for two days RIP. Anyways I had like bad writers block but here it is  
> *Ok so I edited this/ added some new shit (like 500 words maybe so ehh) so it would actually be comprehensible cause holy shit im sorry it was bad*

Elizabeth rode from the quaint little town of Rhodes, bag heavy from the shopping she’d done. It was peaceful- save for the family battle looming over the town- occupied decent enough folks. She’d meant to get one or two things for herself but _no_. ‘Oh you’re goin’ to town? Get me this?’ or ‘Get me that?’ like she was the damn errand boy of personal items. The landscape was quiet and tranquil, she couldn’t imagine a _ny_ foul action going down in a place like this. She hadn’t even thought about her guns before riding off, just feeling so sure of the town’s inhabitants it didn’t feel necessary. After all, they’d set camp there for a week and nothing out of place happened- no one even looked at them wrong. Even with a warning about some gang on the fringes of the territory- they hadn’t bothered her. And she hadn’t seen them so what was the harm?

And just as suddenly as her thoughts came and went, men rode up beside her- angry looking and armed to the teeth.

“Ain’t you a pretty one?" He sneered.

“We got a tax ‘round here. You gotta pay up to use these parts, Missy. Why don’t you come down from there and work somethin’ out?” The other man spoke surely, flashing the gun at his hip.

“Fuck off!” She said, drawing her pistol and shooting the man to her left point blank. _That was the wrong thing to do._ As if she had set off an alarm bell, men on horseback rushed through the trees. Five- no ten- fifteen? Perhaps she could outrun them? She doubted Ace would get very far, the large target that he is.   _Fuck- just fuck._ She had the worst luck, she really did.

 _Watch out,_ Charles said, _there’s gangs,_ he said and what did she do? Ignored him- nodded and waved him off like she always did before she rode off. It was supposed to be a simple errand, a ride into town to gather a few things and come back before lunch time. _It’s a backwater town how much trouble could some hicks be?_ She should have just paid their goddamn toll- she was going to die in a shitty swamp in the south cause she was too stubborn to cough up some dollars.

She jumped off Ace, taking shelter behind a large rock. She watched the black horse run off, knowing she’d be screwed when he came barreling into camp without her but at least he’d be safe. Elizabeth shot where she could, barely having time to peek her head out before bullets would rush past her ears. She was sure the commotion had drawn attention yet no one had come in the time they traded. She supposed it was a good thing in a way, not having to deal with getting chewed out. She would rather die than deal with getting a lecture from Charles and Arthur- at least dying seemed preferable.

She was grabbed from behind, wrenched from her rock cover. A blade tickled the base of her throat, sharp and stinging as it was pressed enough as a reminder of what would happen should she move. She was frozen, shocked in her haze she’s let someone sneak up on her. Her heart stopped, breath stuck in her throat as she was wrenched up and into the man behind her. He was _large-too large_ , a man of similar stature to Arthur and towered over the likes of Elizabeth. Thoughts raced through her mind as she couldn’t fathom how to fight off the man. She tried wiggling out of his hold, to pry the hand from her waist but she _couldn’t._ He wouldn't even budge. _She felt terrified. Helpless._ Frozen because she’d never been grabbed like that before- never held so _disgustingly tight_ it took away her power over herself. She couldn’t breath- as though the man was choking her without even laying a finger on her throat.

The knife! That beast of a blade hung heavy on her hip as she silently thanked Charles for giving It to her. He moved back, dragging her with him and muttering in her ear all the foul actions he'd like to do to her. She felt disgusted, ready to kill this man for the unpleasant goosebumps he sent done her spine. He walked back, making a wrong move by turning his head away to look at the road. There, she moved swiftly, wrenching the knife from its hold and plunging into his stomach with all her might. The man cursed, his greasy hands tightening around her as the knife sliced her skin as he fell. She gasped gripping the cut firmly blood seeping around her fingers as she fell forward. Her brain stopped for a second, registering that she was still alive, throat and other still intact. He laid on the ground grasping at the knife that gutted him and reaching blindly for a gun near him. She stumbled to the fallen pistol, aiming shakily for the man. Just like that, the mans ragged groans ended with a bang. Elizabeth let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding, pistol dropping from her limp hand.

She stalled, falling to her knees as she gasped for breath in the aftermath. Heartbeats pounded and ricocheted in her ears as her chest constricted so _tightly_ it felt as though the air was weighing her down _._ Breathing was _hard. Much too hard._ _How do you breath?_ She felt so… so _powerless_ and out of control, like she had no say in her own body. Clammy hands dug craters into the dirt, reaching for purchase- for a _grounding_ in her spinning head. She could feel the touch of his hands around her, his chest flush to her back that made her feel so uncomfortable in her own skin. And how he was so a _ble_ to rip her own fighting will out of her, she was _vulnerable._

She felt _weak._

Elizabeth fought for her breath, forcing herself to calm down before she bled out. Gripping the cut, she could feel it was shallow but bleeding profusely just above where her neck met the shoulder. She was lucky it hadn’t been higher or she’d be well dead by now. The fuzzy haze of blood loss was already seeping into her blurry vision and affecting her balance. _Shit._ She couldn’t see Ace anywhere. _double shit._ If he came barreling into camp riderless it was going send off alarm bells and she did _not_ want to deal with that hell. Getting her bearings, she realized was a mile out from camp- too far to walk with the rate she was losing blood. Ripping the sleeve from her shirt, she tied it messily around her neck. She must have looked a fright- more like a banshee than a woman- as her entire front dripped with blood. She couldn’t stay awake like this much longer, certainly couldn’t walk back to camp. She just wanted to be away- _away from him and away from that place._

Elizabeth stumbled down the road, fighting her limbs that dragged like boulders in the sun. She wasn’t sure that even if she found Ace or another horse she’d have the strength at this point to pull herself up. It was horrible, the heaviness of her entire body fighting with her brain that tried to go to safety.

* * *

 

The rumbling of hooves pounding the ground was heard before they actually saw the animal. Ace stormed in the middle of camp spooked and huffing hot air, neck frothy with sweat as he pranced about. _Without Lizzie._ Charles shot up from his spot, as though lighting had struck him already grabbing for the gun at his side. This was his fault, he thought she would be okay on a simple trip to town and her horse came back riderless. A thousand different possibilities raced through his mind as he stormed through the camp. Arthur was saying something unheard over the pounding blood in his ears, drowned out like he spoke miles underwater. He was sure Arthur had followed him as he whipped onto Tiama faster than he’d ever done before. Just _praying_ he wouldn't be too late for _whatever_ had happened to her.

It was easy to follow Ace’s trail, the large beast left heavy indents in the ground as he ran with such _intention-_ if a horse ever had it.

He couldn’t remember the last time he felt such turmoil over another person. Perhaps he just didn’t want another death on his conscious or the blood of a girl that barely got to experience life. _It would be your fault_ he echoed in his head. He taught her how to survive- in _his world. You brought her into your world_. But what was he doing really? He felt like he only helped himself, helped her because it made him feel better. Yet she helped him but she did it so _purely_ , never expecting anything, never doing something with hidden intentions. And he convinced himself he had such, like it would pay for his sins in this life if he kept Elizabeth from an early grave. A girl like her alone, on the road with no idea how to defend herself wouldn't last long, he’d seen it before. Young women strapping it on the road run into men with bad intent and- and- _get ruined._ She was a good friend, she was…. He didn’t know what she was but he knew she wouldn't die. Charles knew _he_ couldn’t take it if she died.

 _“Jesus,”_ Arthur spoke under his breath. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting but it wasn’t this. Not the girl covered in her own blood as she clutched a tree with white knuckles to stay upright. His throat constricted as he rushed to her. He had to pry her hands from the branches she’d gripped so tightly her palms bled. It hurt him, seeing how _determined_ she was to live, to fight through it. Like he was ripping her fingers from his own heart and each pull was another stab of guilt. Slung over the saddle in front of him, he rode to camp like his life depended on it. And almost literally, he felt like it surely did.

* * *

 

Her head pounded angrily, limbs heavy as she fought off heavy sleep. She was in her tent- the smudges and texture of the tarp above her becoming clearer as she woke. Wood scraping offended her ears, ringing painfully on beat with her migraine. She opened her mouth but all that came out was a croak, suddenly becoming aware of the dryness at her throat.

 She could see Charles- vision edged with black- but he was there whittling idly, _angrily_. She wondered how long he’d been there- how long she’d been out. You woudn’t tell it with how gentle he was, helping her to sit up and holding a glass of water to her lips. Every move, touch was gentle but his eyes- they were brooding and angry. Burning into her with such _fire_ she almost wished she’d bled out.

“What happened?”

She groaned and rubbed her eyes, “Some assholes.”

“The ‘Raiders’?” She nodded with a low hum.

“What happened to straight to town and back?”

“ _I did._ They stopped me out of town ‘bout a tax.”

“And…?”

“I told ‘em where they could shove their tax,” She chuckled but it only caused her to cough and choke on her sore throat, “It was a spat-.”

“A _spat_? Your throat was almost split open and that’s a _spat?_ Where were your guns?”

She said nothing but the side glance to her bundle of guns in the corner was enough.

“You brought _nothing?”_

“I had my pistol! I just didn’t see him, he- he got behind me.”

“Lizzie, _he could have killed you_.”

“I stopped him.”

“And if you couldn’t?”

“I handled it.”

“ You can't act like-"

“Act like what? One of the guys- a- a man?”

“Lizzie,” He groaned, trying to find the words, “You can outshoot everyone in this camp but you can’t fight like them.”

“And why not?”

“Stop being dense, you know why.” And she did- but she wanted to hear him say it- fuel her own anger.

“Do I?”

“A sack of flour weighs more than you. You think you can go out there and- and fight like that? Throw men twice your size?”

“I. Handled. It.”

“That’s ‘handling’ it?” he gestured to her bandaged neck, “Or how you handled the bar fight?”

“I don’t know!” She cried in frustration, “You know how-how hard I worked for them to-to respect me? Just to get ‘em to take me on jobs?”

“I’m not telling you to stop- just- you shouldn’t go anywhere alone like that. None of us do. No one is going to think less of you for- for having a weakness.”

“ _I am not weak_!” She shrieked, voice cracking.

“He could have _slit your throat_!”

“Maybe he should have! Then I wouldn’t have to deal with you!”

“Lizzie,” He breathed, “You’re being unreasonable.”

“ _I’m_ the unreasonable one?” She scoffed

“You are not invincible!” He yelled, “ _You could have died._ Do you understand?” He whispered, voice  carrying _so much_ _emotion_ it was overwhelming. All the anger, all the fear that swept through him was manifested in that one sentence. Charles wasn’t sure he’d ever felt such fear as when they found her on the side of the road almost unrecognizable as she dripped with her own blood. He was truly _terrified_ for a moment. He’d never forgive himself for leading her to her _death,_ for setting her on a path she would inevitable die from. She saw the wide-eyed look he gave her, how unsure of himself he was and it _scared_ her.

She sighed heavily, turning away to make as much distance as she could in the cramp tent. She wanted to be as far away as possible from this conversation, upset and angry at the sudden argument _._

 ”Just leave.” She croaked. He glared at her, jaw clenched as he realized it would be a moot point. He crawled out the tent though not before grumbling an order to take the medicine at her side.

How could he be so angry at _her?_ Not at the Raiders but _her?_ And _blaming her?_ How could he just come in and yell at her? She was so angry wasn’t sure she even knew _who_ she was angry and at. She was furious at herself, at Charles, at those hicks- _every thought_ just made her blood boil. _How dare he?_ Yes- how _dare_ he point out what she knew, what she tried to so desperately to deny and hide. How dare he wrench out her own truth that she couldn’t- refused- to face. Maybe it was her fault- she was too stubborn to admit her bark was bigger than her bite. And that angered her more than anything Charles could say.

How could he yell at her? Call her _weak_ , smack her in the face with an ugly truth and be so _angry_ yet caring enough to order her to take medicine. _It wasn’t fair._ It wasn’t fair that he was _right,_ that she was the naïve girl that needed babysitting _._ How much insisting and fighting had she gone through to go on jobs? And how much did she fuck it up by forgetting all her guns in one stupid trip? Yet, the group knew she could shoot the feather off a hat and that she was _absolutely useless_ in close quarters. She supposed anyone would assume such, a 5’2 girl with the weight of a hay bale was not intimidating- even with guns and rifles draped around her. But _she_ didn’t- she knew how to fight- sort of- and that was all the denial she needed to be ‘one of the guys’. _To have a family again._

Charles saw her as a _child._ To be looked after as such, to be treated as such. And that hit her _hard._ She was an idiot. She was a kid trying to fit in with the big guns, humored by them. _Everything_ was them _humoring her-_ from Charles insisting he or anyone else go _everywhere with her_ to the hovering- the checking _. He didn’t trust her._ And that kiss- it felt so _right-_ yet she wondered what is was, _really_? Taking pity on the naïve girl that eyed the older man? _Charles_ was the one who made sure she ate, _Charles_ was the one who fixed her wounds, _Charles_ was the one who taught her e _verything._ She _relied_ on him and she felt like the _biggest idiot in the world_. Hot tears prickled in her eyes, willing them down. She was not going to cry- she was not going to be little girl they thought she was.

Arthur crouched in to the small tent, stew in hand. His face was marked with concern, the worried man he always was coming through.

“Go away,” She croaked, turning away to hide her watery eyes.

“See your feelin’ better.” He joked, handing her the bowl.

“Not really.”

“You gave everyone a real scare comin’ through camp like a damn ghost.”

“Sorry,” She said wistfully, wolfing down the stew.

“Ah- it was worth it to see John get the piss scared outta him,” He chuckled, “What the hell happened out there? You was goin’ to town.”

“ _I did!_ I already got this from Charles, you know. I don’t need it from you too.”

“I know just- _your guns-_ really, Lizzie?”

“I know I fucked up okay? Can ya’ll just drop it?”

“Can we?”

“ _Arthur.”_

“Just be more careful, kid. We already got enough to deal with between Lenny and Sean without worryin’ ‘bout you too.”

“I know,” She croaked, “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

“Oh, _I know_ it won’t. You know Charles ain’t never lettin’ you do anything again?”

“That ain’t his decision.”

“Sure it ain’t.”

 _“It’s not!_ He’s not my father- no matter how much he fuckin’ acts like it.”

“You know he feels s _ome_ responsibility for you? You think he acts like that cause hates ya?”

“I ain’t his responsibility! I can handle myself.”

“Then how’d you get here, yeah?” She wasn’t lost on the weight behind his words, “Look it ain’t my business but anyhow, but Dutch is gonna see bout this, you know that?”

“What are you sayin? I can’t go on jobs anymore? You guys get hurt all the time!”

“I know- calm down woman. I think you’ve learned your lesson, yeah?” He nodded fondly to the girl, “Rest up, and uh- think ‘bout what I said alright?” He pat her leg before getting up to leave.

“Going to beat up more desperate folks for money?”

“ _You_ really gon’ give me lip _now?_ ”

“Make Micah do it- that up his alley ain’t it? _That and kicking puppies_.” She muttered.

He chuckled, “Yeah, maybe I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p.s. still love you fucks


	12. Butterscotch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello peeps! everyone ready for Christmas? And also hope ya'll still alive form that tumblr purge that just happened cause rip that hellsite. 
> 
> *I edited last chapter/added some shit (but its like 3 paragraphs so not super important??) because BOI that was a hot mess ;-; I'm so sorry but it should actually be readable now rip*

Elizabeth fought with the needle and thread as she _attempted_ to patch up a hole in some old jeans- truth be told they were so threadbare she didn’t see the point in fixing it. She hated sewing with a passion, any proximity with her and a needle always resulted in a few dozen puncture wounds. She had been grounded until further notice  and was going stir crazy from sitting in camp for the past week and a half- nursing her damn fuck up. She was on the ‘women’s work’ while she was healing- no strenuous activities- not that she was complaining. Well, _she was,_ but she understood it- if she couldn’t hunt or be useful she had to be useful this way. Even if she complained and cursed the whole way through- and _might_ have said a colorful version of _I’m not your maid_ to the guys as she threw clothes at them. She’d already punched Sean once for laughing at her and saying she’d be a ‘right and proper housewife now’.- he’d avoided her since then.

Elizabeth was desperate for air, or just a moment she didn’t have to deal with Grimshaw who absolutely reveled in bossing her around for the week. She couldn’t even go for a ride- Arthur practically ripped her from the saddle grumbling about being a s _tubborn idiot_. Not to mention Charles, who she’d avoided like the plague- which was impossibly hard in the small camp. Though he wasn’t actively seeking her out either, both parties were angry and had  no room for reconciliation. Well- _Elizabeth_ didn’t- Charles was angry, yes, but had simmered down since and was only concerned. He wanted to make her see reason and she was too stubborn, so he had to settle on keeping an eye on the girl from across camp instead.  

 “How ya doin’ kid?” She looked up to see Arthur, sitting down beside her. The man that he was always checking on her. Elizabeth never had a brother but she felt Arthur was the closest she ever had to one. She thought it funny a rough man like him that tried so hard to hide how much he really cared for the world around him. The big idiot schtick just didn’t fit him and she didn’t see what was so bad about giving a damn.

“If you ask me that one more time Arthur,” she seethed, “ _I am kickin’ your face in.”_

“Ok, sorry.” He chuckled, hands up in surrender.

“ _Shit!”_ She pricked her finger _again_ sewing, “I am going to murder everyone if I ever have to sew another thing in my damn life.”

Arthur laughed a moment and looked down in thought. As if something hit him, he sat up with purpose, “Come on,”

“What?”

“Just come on kid,” He called over his shoulder, already walking off. She eyed him warily, knowing he was up to something. She followed him to the edge of camp, a wagon already hooked up and ready as he grabbed the rains. She looked around, unsure if she was even allowed to go anywhere without someone biting her head off for it.

“Quit givin’ me that look. We’re just goin’ to town.” He grumbled, hauling himself into the wagon and ushering her up.

“And here I though we were doin’ somethin’ fun.” She teased, sitting beside him on the bench.

“You talk to Dutch yet?”

“No,” She laughed bitterly, “I’d rather avoid that conversation.”

“He ain’t kickin you out Lizzie.”

“Why not? What have I brought in? And- and now? My dumbass almost got _killed_ and- and,” She breathed in shakily, “He probably ain’t even gonna let me do jobs anymore. I mean ya’ll talking ‘bout kicking Bill all the time- and- just-"

“ _Bill_ is an idiot, don’t pay no mind to that talk. You’re not going anywhere, on that I promise.”

“You can’t promise something like that.”

“ _I_ am. Besides Charles wouldn’t stand for that-"

“Why does it always have to be about Charles? I can stand for myself!”

“What’s gotten into you all the sudden?”

“What somethin has to ‘get into me’ now?” She snapped back.

“Quit bein’ so damn irritable,” he huffed, frustrated, “What’s got you so twisted up?”

“Ain’t nothin’ got me ‘twisted’.”

“You’re a terrible liar Lizzie.”

She huffed, biting her lip anxiously, “I don’t want to… to rely on Charles. He acts like I’m some helpless kid- e _veryone_ does.”

“Stop bein’ so stupid. Nobody thinks of ya’ like that,”

“But I do! He- he treats me like a child! Like- like _I’m weak_.”

“Everyone’s weak Lizzie,” he shrugged, “They’re just… weak in different ways.”

“But _you_ don’t have a weakness?”

“Putin’ up with you.”

“Yeah but your life would be awfully borin’ without me.”

“My life would be awfully _quiet_ without you.” He quipped, turning the wagon into Rhodes. How quaint it always was, even with this brewing hick gold that stirring around camp- sounded like bullshit to Elizabeth but who was she to say.  

“Exactly! Boring,” She joked, stepping down from the wagon.

“Just- look, I’ve never seen him so damn squirrely as when we found you. We thought you weren’t gonna make it,”

“I said sorry!”

“An’ you think that’s enough?” He said, turning away without giving her a chance to respond. He went into the general store, leaving her to simmer over his words.

It was enough, wasn’t it? It _should_ be enough, _shouldn’t_ it? She apologized what more could he want? She did apologize- didn’t she? But _why_ did she have to? She was her own agent, it shouldn’t matter if she apologized to Charles- it was _her_ life! He was the one that was over-reacting- Charles was in the wrong, on that Elizabeth _knew._ How could _she_ be wrong for handling her own life, her own mistakes? She wasn't his responsibility, she _refused_. Not that it mattered, she thought bitterly. She’d been his responsibility for the past year, she just didn't see it- didn’t _mind_ it. _Selfish idiot._

“You gonna help me or just stand there girl?” Arthur stopped before the door, pulling her out of thought.  She rolled her eyes, walking up the steps a sense of déjà vu hitting her. It was odd, not exactly striking fear but she felt that same smothered, chest constricting feeling all over again. That _horrible_ feeling that caught her breath in her throat like a bubble. She was being dramatic- she told herself- even though she didn’t why. _Over-dramatic_ _kid_ she muttered, forcing that anxiety down.

The little store was c _ute_ , most of the town was she thought. It had a certain homey feel to it, one that Elizabeth missed from her childhood. She strut around the little store, looking absently at the collection of colored bottles and cans lining the walls. Barrels of candies sat in the middle, catching her eye. _Butterscotch_ , she laughed softly, reminiscing as she thumbed the package with some lost fondness.

“You know, this place reminds me of this little store we had when I was kid. Every week we’d ride into town on this big brown mare- I loved that thing,” She smiled with a far-away look, “and my daddy, he’d get these butterscotch candies every time. I haven’t had one of these since I left home.” Her words faded off to whisper, talking more to herself than Arthur.

 It was a bitter-sweet memory, one that caused her much melancholy. _God,_ she hadn’t truly thought about her father in… she couldn’t remember the last time. It was… unpleasant so she avoided it, like how she avoids everything else because it was easier. _Because she was weak._ He was always so sure, as wise as the mountains were old. What would he think if he saw her now? Would he be disappointed? Ashamed of his daughter dressed like a gun-toting man? _No_. He’d be ashamed of her actions- the blood on her hands, the lives she’d ruined for her own gain. She could practically hear him: ‘How did you become so, little bird?’ yes, _how?_ Yet, he’d tell her she’d made her bed and it was time to lie in it. It was too late to turn from the life she’d chosen and the people she’d bonded with. This was her family now- all dysfunctional and fools.

He’d tell her she was being a _right idiot_ pushing away a friend that was- rightfully- worried and upset. That it was her fault and was being painfully thick-headed about it. _God, she was an idiot_ _wasn’t she_? She had to laugh, a fucking candy and Arthur was what slapped her upside the head and out of her own stupidity. She wasn’t sure how to deal with this, confronting her own mistakes was not her strong suit. Yet she had to, she knew this, though it would still bruise her ego.

“Some candy for the lady,” Arthur said, tossing another coin on the counter. She opened her mouth to protest but he held his hand up to hush her, not having it. She hated it when he did that, refused to take no for an answer over something so little. Huffing, she took a few of the candies and stuffed them in her pocket. Packing the wagon with the large boxes of supplies, it took less time than expected which she dreaded. She hated even more how short the ride back to camp felt, each bump and turn closer put her through more turmoil. Before she knew it they were back at camp, unloading the cart. Elizabeth thanked Arthur, though not before shoving a dollar into his jacket and skirting off before he could throw it back at her.

She avoided him still, more out of nervousness than anger. She _really_ did not want to have that conversation, how bad was it going to be? How bad could it go? He was sitting at the edge of camp, making arrows in the saturated colors of the sunset that cast a somber look to the man. She swallowed her pride, marching to him with head held high. She wasn’t sure how this was going to go? How did these things go? Just say sorry and walk away? Stay for the probable argument that she didn’t want to have? She stopped in front of him, letting go of breath she didn’t know she was holding. He didn’t even look up at her, just made arrows more intensely to ignore her. What the hell does she say? _Fuck._ Why didn’t she think of this before?

“Teach me how to fight.”

He looked at her, eyebrow raised. He was annoyed, that much was clear from his furrowed brows and rough carving.

“I’m sorry,” She huffed, “I fucked up.”

“ _Yes,_ you did.”

“I’m sorry, okay? What do you want!”

“You almost _died._ ”

“ _I know_ I fucked up! I-I’ll be more careful! That’s why I should learn how to fight better, right?”

“No,” He said tartly, “So you can feel invincible when you go back out there and do something else stupid?”

“Charles, _please._ When that man grabbed me it was- I felt- I don’t want to feel like that again. I don’t want to be treated like a kid, like everyone’s responsibility- like _your_ responsibility. ” Her voice was shaky, cracking as she remembered just how it felt before.

“You’re not- no one thinks you are.”

“It doesn’t matter! _I_ feel like I am, so… I want to change that. _I’m sorry_.”

“Okay,” He sighed, “ _After_ that’s healed.”

She nodded, knowing that was the best she was going to get. She placed the butterscotch next to him, she said nothing- for once she had nothing to say. Feeling heavier but better for it she walked back to her tent with lighter shoulders.

* * *

 

Elizabeth woke early the next morning, before most of the camp had stirred. The sun was hardly up, the dark blue of the night barely lifting in the early hours. She went to the edge of camp, stoking the fire there and brewing coffee. She hummed to no rhythm or rhyme, adding sticks to the little fire. Of course, it would be Charles that sat next to her at such an ungodly hour.

There were no words that could really be spoken, or rather she was afraid to break what had been reconciled. She suspected he was still mad at her and why wouldn’t he be? She acted a fool. Yet he sat close on the log, shoulders brushing in a way that gave her some comfort that man didn’t completely hate her.

“You know you can call me an idiot,” She quickly added with a smile, “Just this once though.”

“ _Just_ once?”

“Call me it twice and I’ll put a spider in your shoe.”

“Only you are afraid of spiders.”

“They’re creepy! All them legs just-“ She shivered in disgust, “I’ll put horseshit in your saddlebag.”

“You wouldn't touch it.”

“I’d pay Sean to do it.” She shrugged.

“You are a hopeless fool,” He chuckled.

“In the best way,” She quipped, “That was your one.”

“I didn’t say ‘idiot’,” He pointed out, “Idiot.” He spoke light-heartedly, punctuating it by plucking the coffee from her hands, drinking what was left.

“I’m getting Sean right now,” She insisted with a laugh


	13. Back on the Job

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who left their laptop at home during the holidays so i had to write this entire thing on my phone whoooooo sorry its been like 2? weeks but i'm not dead promise just dumb and forgetful.  
> anyways sorry for the shortish chapter but writing on a phone is literally hell and I edited this for like 3 days (but also sorry for my thirsty ass cause WHOO i got like thirsty lvls 9000 over Christmas cause my mind hates me and i had to do something)

Elizabeth trudged through camp, heavy limbs and aching muscles from her training with Charles. Two days in and she, swore muscles hurt that she didn’t even know she had. He’s been rough with her by her own request, she insisted no one else would grab her so.. _softly_ so neither should he _._ The big question still loomed over her- would Dutch kick her out? Make her stay in camp? He had said nothing to her so far so Elizabeth wasn’t going to either. It was late evening upon returning, the sunset casting a solemn glow that set the scene for Elizabeth’s turmoil so well.

“Miss Elizabeth!”

She cursed under her breath, turning begrudgingly. _Dutch._ Suppose she couldn’t run away from that conversation any more as she went to the man. The tent was a little bubble of luxury in the middle of the damn woods, mostly from the behest of Miss O’Shea. None the less Dutch was still slumming it up with cots and pelts while every else slept on the cold ground. _This was it._ The conversation she dreaded, tried to avoid and she couldn’t run away this time- not from the stifling smell of expensive cigar smoke or Molly’s perfume. Dutch was an intimidating man- even if he lacked the size of Charles or Arthur- just in the way he carried himself demanded an air of respect. He had a silver-tongue that made up for anything he lacked and quick trigger finger for everything else. Any man able to survive twenty years with a bounty on his head was someone not to be trifled with. Even still,

“I trust you’re feelin’ better?

“I am.” She answered, trepidation coursing through her as her fingers twitched anxiously.

 _You’re not the right fit, we don’t have room for someone that can’t pull their weight, your off the jobs- go report to the Wicked Witch of the West._ Any of those scenarios is what she was expecting to come out of his mouth.

“We were worried there, I trust you’re better to start workin’ again?

_What?_

“You ain’t kickin’ me out?”

“I do believe we’d fall apart without another pair of hands. I understand things happen, just do be more careful. Go get out there- we need it.”

She nodded leaving the tent, spotting Arthur watching her from the fire. She felt better she supposed, at least it felt like she could move around freely again. Elizabeth went to the little fire, a modicum of peace in the stressed and tired camp.

“You kicked out yet?” He teased.

“Shut up,” She chastised, elbowing him in the side as she sat down, “Told me to get back on jobs.”

“See! You get too caught up in that head o’ yours.”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t either.”

“I prefer to leave the overthinkin’ to you,” He passed a beer, “Now settle your damn nerves.”

“My nerves don’t need any _settling_.” She bit back, snatching the whiskey from him, “I _do,_ however, need to celebrate escaping the damn hag.”

“Oh she ain’t that bad-“

“Susan’s just has a particular way ‘bout things.”

“She’s got a particular way about bein’ a bitch.” She muttered under her breath.

“We’re all goin’ through one thing or another,” He sighed, “You caught up on this hillbilly gold business yet?”

“Just what Javi told me. Dutch thinks we can rob ‘em both?”

“Sometin’ like that. You can come with tomorrow to talk to that Braithwaite lady Hosea’s cozied up with.”

“I’ll do anything if it means getting out of camp.”

“Good,” He nodded, “Well, I’m passin’ out.”

“Too late for you, old man?” She teased, noting the sun had only gone down half an hour ago or so.

“And it’s past your bedtime!” He retorted.

She chuckled, nursing what was left of the beer in her hands. It was relieving to know she wasn’t going to be forced to work under Grimshaw for the rest of her life. She shuddered, _that would be the closest thing to hell on Earth._ She was happy she could go on jobs again, she’d have to tag along with someone on a _nything._ Maybe she could convince Charles to go on a hunting trip or even just an hour or two of fishing. Elizabeth was just desperate for a reprieve from camp, and now that she had the go-ahead from Dutch, she’d actually be able to leave without getting dragged back.

 She thumbed the raised and twisted skin upon her neck, vaguely covered by the thick collar of her button-up. It was different from her other scars- this one could be _seen_. The other scars were easily hidden and she never cared about them before but the one on her neck? It was different. It was embarrassing. It was _ugly._ A testament to her naivete and rashness that almost got her killed. A fuck up she couldn’t hide or forget about, every time she looked in a mirror or saw her reflection in the water it was there. _Taunting_ her.

“You drinkin’ instead of workin now? You clean my clothes yet?” Micah jeered. Elizabeth jumped, she hadn’t heard him come up. Micah had a certain way of pissing her off with just his voice- more so than Swanson or Uncle who she always gave a wide berth.

“Clean your own damn shit,” She hissed, “I ain’t your maid so fuck off.”

“What did you say?”

She stood, facing him and looking him in the eye as much as she could, even if she did have to look up bitterly. Eyes narrowed and burning fiercely, she stood stoutly as she smelled the whiskey on his breath. “I said fuck off.”

“You gotta earn your keep someway girl,” He growled, “Maybe- maybe we need to work somethin’ out.”

She scoffed, turning away she was _not_ having this conversation. Not with him. She hardly turned away before he was gripping her hip roughly, dark smirk painting his features. Elizabeth hardly thought before her fist was flying straight for his nose. Her own blood was pumping so loudly out of anger she couldn’t hear Micah’s cry of pain.

“Work that out asshole.” She spat walking from the man clutching his bloody nose, feeling quite happy with the outcome. He was cursing up a storm, mostly unintelligible and muffled through his hand as he scurried away. Could she never get peace? First day she didn’t have to hear Grimshaw lording over her and Micah had to ruin it all. She stomped away from camp, knowing Charles was on watch _somewhere._ The man didn’t know the definition of rest to absolute frustration of Elizabeth. He was always looked tired yet was on par with running the camp almost single-handedly with Arthur.

At the end of the road she could make out his figure, rifle loosely in hand as he looked up at the moon. Shoulders slumped, the only characteristic you’d ever get from the man admitting he was anything close to exhausted. He saw her stomping figure, shoulders squared in that tell-tale aggravation she always did.

“You look happy.” He said sarcastically, voice low in the night.

“Just Micah bein’ Micah.” She huffed, slumping on a rock next to him.

“He did something to you?” He asked, a hint of anger pressed through his baritone voice.

“It’s fine, he just got a little grabby is all. I got him back anyways!”

“He shouldn’t have done it all” He insisted, frustration dripping from his voice. He would have to have a _talk_ with Micah.

“I got him good, hope I broke the bastard’s nose.” She muttered, “Anyways, Dutch says I’m still in.”

“Where you ever not?”

“For _jobs_ again _._ I don’t think I could survive another week of cookin’ and cleanin’.”

“I imagine the rest of us woudn’t either.” He chuckled.

“That’s rude asshole.” She chided, poking his chest teasingly.

“ _I’m_ rude?” He grabbed the hand at his chest.

“Yeah, you are.” She affirmed, attempting to push him with her free hand. He was quick to catch it however, holding both her hands hostage now and felt the jump of her pulse as his grip tightened around her wrists. She was… cute when she was angry, pink cheeks and pouting lip while her eyes would burn from behind her thick lashes.

“I do believe you are the one with the attitude as of late.” He spoke breathily, voice dropping lower as he loomed over her.

“You gonna do something about that?” She giggled, bright eyes shining mischievously in the moonlight. Splayed hands pressed into his chest, feeling the muscles that twitched under her touch. He looked so tempting in the moonlight casting sharp shadows along his face.

“Perhaps,” He whispered, leaning close until their noses were a hair’s breadth away. It was like a slow form of torture as she stood on her tip toes to close the distance but he only leaned out of reach. He brushed his lips over hers once, twice, and a third. _He was teasing her._ A barely-there smirk painted his face as he saw her frustrated pout, mouth agape and _waiting. Finally,_ he pressed his lips to hers, a clash of teeth and tongues. Parting her own lips with bold strokes of his tongue, fevered yet gentle. A comfort that she was wanted as she met him with the same fervor. Running her hands over his shoulder, over his neck to feel the exited beating of his pulse to the base of his neck. Fingers tangled into his knotted hair- long forgotten from days of work- to pull him closer, to feel him _anywhere._ She sighed into the kiss, she felt protected, safe, with Charles like this so close to her. He had a way of making her feel so small as he loomed over her with bruising force of his lips, but she enjoyed the way it her feel safe, protected. She enjoyed it more than she cared to admit, going straight to stoking the fire in her belly.

 _It wasn’t fair -_ It never was- with how effortlessly he made her melt into his touch, c _raving_ any touch. How he made her heart beat so fast she thought it would burst whenever their tongues traced. How flushed she got when he caught her lip between his teeth. How she let out a positively _sinful_ moan when she _had_ to look away from his eyes burning so intensely into her own. How he stole the breath from her lungs when he tangled a hand into her curls, pulling gently to show her neck. Her mind was overwhelmed, dizzy, and confused as she pulled at the dark tresses wrapped around her hands in an effort to ground her. His lips locked at her neck, kissing a wet trail from her jaw to shoulder. He sucked at her pulse point and if his hands hadn’t been locked at her hips, her knees would have buckled long ago. It was so different- she’d never felt anything so intense that left her feeling _hot_ like her skin was on fire. She was drowning in of him, the scent of pine and sweat so unbelievably intoxicating.

“Cha- Charles….” She struggled even to form that strangled moan of a word. The most she could muster was a whimpered _fuck_ as he laved at the twisted scar on her neck. She clung to him, hands carding through his scalp as he pleasantly shivered in response. It was too much- too hot. _He w_ as so overwhelming, from the wet kissed he left on her neck to her jaw to the large hands on her back pulling her closer. He pulled her attention away from everything that wasn’t him, _demanded_ it. She could scarcely remember how to breath, how to force the in and outs of her chest as it pressed against his. He planted a kiss along her jaw, another below her ear and claimed her mouth once more. There was no force, no urgency behind it this time. It was softer, an appreciation of the warmth he gave her.

“Do you know what you do to me?” He groaned, forehead pressed to hers.

“Drive you insane I hope,” She giggled, “I think my hand’s stuck in your hair. You should really brush it.”

He laughed, breath puffing in her face, “Can you ever stop talking?”

“Nope _,”_ She popped. He hummed in acknowledgment, not truly paying attention anymore. She looked at him, eyes closed and relaxed as she raked her nails through his scalp.

“Sit,” She said, pushing him back, “Just sit.” She insisted when he looked at her questioningly. She plopped on a large rock, gesturing to sit in front of her. He did, throwing his weight down like he was too tired to sit down properly.

Elizabeth fingered through his hair, detangling in slowly as not to damage it. She knew he prided himself on his hair and held it close to his heart as the last piece of his heritage he had. Seeing it matted and forgotten through his hunting, chores and never-ending work was… upsetting for her because she imagined it was for him. It was a rats nest of hair, probably no help from the thick humidity in the swamp. After a while she was just massaging his head, humming a made-up tune. He’d leaned back on her leg, head back and resting on her knee. His eyes were closed and forehead free of wrinkles, mouth ajar. He looked cute like this, so at ease and _actually_ sleeping.

“Is Charles Smith actually _sleeping?”_ She whispered a tease, hoping the man actually w _as_ so he wouldn't hear her. A groan left him that turned into a heady chuckle, so he w _asn’t_ asleep, _whoops._ She braided his hair, tying it off with twine from her pocket. For a man he had pretty hair that would give most girls a run for their money.

“You should sleep.” She said, hand tracing over the back of his head.

“I’m on watch.”

“On a road that isn’t in the rotation. Your _need_ to be busy is annoying sometimes, you know?” She accused, giving him a pointed look.

“No-.”

“Charles. _Sleep._ The camp’s not going to fall apart for one night, _”_ She urged, holding a hand out to him. He looked at her moment before giving in, throwing his hand up as he rose _._ She handed him his forgotten rifle, walking back to camp together. It must have been midnight at the latest and Elizabeth was grateful most of the camp had retired early that night. Imagining someone finding them like _that_ would be a nightmare. Although they really weren’t _doing_ anything, she supposed, just idea of others seeing them might be the death of her.

 Charles gave her a comforting squeeze on the arm before parting to his bedroll. Elizabeth crawled into her little shelter which was admittedly messier than usual since she hadn’t left camp in a while. Her books were worn and re-read to death, paperback covers holding on by a thread next to her pillow. With a huff, she threw herself down on the threadbare blanket, knocking off her boots. She went to sleep that night actually looking forward to the morning for the first time in a month.


End file.
